


i'm not the ghost you want of me.

by listentotheink



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listentotheink/pseuds/listentotheink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is the bad boy. Harry is the debater. Louis is failing his history class. Harry is his tutor. What happens? You'll see.</p><p>based on this: http://25.media.tumblr.com/479af7ea56768e024d77be8e76980907/tumblr_mm2w6vOeea1qj1fuho1_500.png</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm not the ghost you want of me.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've worked on this for like, a month. And I'm glad it took me this long because I honestly think this is the best thing I've ever written.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

 

The alarm then wheeled off of the night stand and onto the floor, rolling around the hardwood beeping obnoxiously. Two feet hit the floor with a groan, and Harry Styles flung himself onto the ground, reaching under his bed to find the obnoxious clock. It was six in the morning, and he had two more hours that he could be using to sleep, even though in his house, it was impossible to do so.

 

He didn’t need an alarm, either. His body was naturally adjusted to waking up at six every morning. Even if he tried to sleep in until six oh five, he would wake at six, on the dot. Unless he was really tired from having stayed up all night revising, that would get him an extra half hour without him even realizing. So, in that case, whoever had thought it was okay to buy him this alarm had the right idea. Even if he hated the bloody thing with every fibre of his being. It was seriously the most obnoxious thing he had ever had to deal with, and he was sure that the only way someone could have found that to purchase it, would have been to type “World’s most obnoxious alarms ever” into Google and see what came up.

And the alarm also explained why he refused to take part in Secret Santa (or, if we’re being politically correct, ‘Secret Snowflake’) at school. That was how he received the bloody thing. And whoever bought it definitely didn’t deserve anything in return.

After a few minutes of swiping his arm around under his bed, he grasped the piece of plastic and metal, and pulled it from the darkness. He slammed his hand down onto the “off” button with a mumbled, but satisfying,  “that’ll show you!” before heading out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom that he and his sister shared. Yes, his sister. That’s why he was awake two hours before he needed to be. She had left for uni, now. But his body was naturally adjusted. She always took quite a while in the bathroom, where as he only took about a half hour at the most. Fifteen minutes to shower, fifteen minutes to brush his teeth, towel dry his hair, etcetera. Usually he could get that part done in ten minutes, then he would trot back down the hall, towel slung around his hips, before getting into his school uniform.

After getting into his uniform he would head down to the kitchen and make himself some breakfast while putting a kettle on for the rest of his family. He always started his morning with egg on toast and a cup of breakfast tea. And since he often had left overs, he would plate them up for his mum, and stepdad before wandering into the living room to watch the news.

He liked keeping up with the world, you see. He wasn’t a political junkie. He just liked to know what was going on so if it was ever brought up in discussion, he could have a logical and intelligent opinion and maybe even stir up a bit of a debate. Nothing too serious, nothing he can’t handle. Just all in the name of fun and testing his knowledge.

That was one of the reasons he was captain of the debate team. He loved it. He loved the thrill of making a logical argument instead of one of the stupid ones that usually ended in an eye roll and him walking away. He liked listening to what other people had to say, and backing up his points with logic and statistics. He loved the adrenaline rush he got when he shut an opponent down, and he loved the satisfaction in saying “I won.” to himself when it was all said and done. There was just something about it for him. Something about showing his knowledge and getting shut down when he was wrong... it was just a thrill.

But today practice had been cancelled, and it was casual day. So that dampered his mood a little bit as he got dressed. Not that he didn’t like going casual, he just liked the idea of having uniforms. He actually debated for the topic, as it was something he felt so strongly about. He liked the idea that uniforms removed the social class, and therefore made it less easy to bully people. Sure, they took away individuality, but sometimes it was better to have lack of expression rather than depressed students.

But, he loved his oversized jumpers just as much as he loved his blazer and chinos. And, since it was considerably cool out for the beginning of October, he was going to wear his jumper and jeans. He could make it work. He could make just about any outfit work, really. He knew that he got looks in the hallways, even though he didn’t really understand why. He wasn’t anything special, anyone worth noticing. But still, the girls would send lingering glances his way, and some of the boys would too. He usually paid it no mind. Just let the fact that people recognized him set in the back of his mind with the other useless information he kept stored there. It bothered him some, though. That people would notice him but wouldn’t actually approach him to speak with him. He had two friends outside of the debate team, who actually took the time to try and hang out with him after school, and that was it. Which was stupid. Harry thought himself to be a rather likeable bloke. At least, he liked to think of himself in that regard. He didn’t think he was pretentious. Even if people saw him that way, it wasn’t his problem. He was smart, and his family had a little bit of money. People would think of him however they wanted, it’s not like he could change their opinion.

His house is. Well. It’s kind of an estate that his parents took over after his mum’s mum died. They have a stone wall that marks the edge of their property, and is really high. Taller than Harry, even, and he’s nearly one point eight metres. They’ve also got a gate with a tower and a gate keeper at the front top of the drive. The only thing that they were lacking was a maid and cooking service and that’s because his mum did away with that when they moved in before Harry was born. She also kept the house after she divorced his father, since it was in her name anyway. She was a good enough cook, and she always said “You’ve got to take care of your own things on your own.”

He drove a petrol guzzler, even though the kids on the debate team ridiculed him for it. They talked about how he was top at debating for environmental conservation and then he drove a car that was killing it with each kilometre he went. But Harry just shrugged it off. It wasn’t his choice to own the Range Rover. His step dad had bought it for him when he brought home all A* for year eleven and passing all of his GSCEs before moving onto lower sixth. That was the first year he had actually made a friend outside of the debate team as well. So his parents thought it would do him a bit of good to have a car, since his social life was clearly blossoming in front of their very eyes. They even thought, perhaps, he might get himself a girlfriend (even though he didn’t exactly swing that way) now that he was ‘so popular’. But nothing ever came of that. There was only one person who caught his eye, and it was never going to happen. It couldn’t happen. Every time he picked up his keys, he would entertain the thought of himself being a hypocrite for driving the car when he was for conservation, but still. He liked it. It was a gift. Why let it rust in the drive?

Was he spoiled? Maybe just a little bit. But it wasn’t like he asked for the nice things that he had. His parents literally bought him everything because he was a good kid and getting good marks in school. They had done the same with Gemma. So. Really. He wasn’t THAT spoiled.

Harry grabbed his rucksack (which was Burberry. Of course.) off the ground by the front door, where he had left it the previous night after he had finished all of his homework, and picked his keys out of the bowl (Venetian glass) before heading outside into the cool morning air. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, and he set off towards his garage, where his car was sitting waiting for him.

Liam was waiting for him in his drive, and Harry grinned. Liam was his neighbor, and his best friend. They had grown up together, and were on the debate team together as well. Liam always took the political questions, though. He was good with things like that. Especially when it came to knowing what was happening in the world. He loved to debate British versus American politics more than he loved to watch the X Factor (and that was saying something since Cheryl Cole often left him with a raging hard on in the morning. His words, and definitely something that Harry didn’t need to know.). They had been best friends since they could talk, and Harry knew that it was unlikely to change anytime soon. They only lived next door to each other, even if “next door” meant nearly a quarter kilometer away because of how large the property Harry lived on was. So that’s why he always gave him a ride in the mornings, and snuck him bits of breakfast that he made for his parents. In turn, Liam brought him a strawberry banana smoothie that he made so well, and they set off for school together.

“You know, the kids on the debate team really hate that you drive this car.” Liam said with a smirk, tossing his bag (Dior) into the backseat before climbing inside.

“Funny,” Harry said, putting his sunglasses on (Gucci aviators. A beginning of sixth form present from his nan), taking a sip of the smoothie that Liam had set in the cup holder for him. “Don’t think they’ve mentioned it more than two or three times every minute of practice after school.”

“You know I just like to give you shit, Harry.” Liam said. “I don’t really mean it. This car gives me a ride to and from school every day. Therefore I really, really like your car.”

“You better. The offer only stands if you do.”

“Well, I do. Even if it’s a petrol guzzler.”

 

Louis awoke that morning to the feeling of his eight year old sister (Daisy or Phoebe, he wasn’t sure which until he opened his eyes) jumping up and down on his arm, where he had just had work done on his sleeve tattoo. It was fresh, less than twenty four hours old, and it hurt like a bitch to have an sixty pound eight year old sitting on it. So when he swiped his right arm out instinctively, and knocked her on the floor, his heart really hurt when she started to cry.

He opened his eyes quickly, to check and see which twin it was before holding his arms out with a sigh. If there was one thing that he prided himself for, it was his ability to tell the twins apart, even when no one else could. He had never once gotten them confused, even when they were babies. Phoebe’s face had always been more square, with sharper features than Daisy’s, and that’s how he knew which one of his sisters was currently crying on his bedroom floor.

“Come here, Daze.” He said softly, curling his fingers and smiling so he would look more inviting. She scrambled up onto the bed and into his arms quickly, burying her face into his chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, love. I just got a new tattoo done yesterday and it really hurts right now. I’m sorry I shoved you onto the floor. But show me where it hurts and I’ll kiss it to make you feel better.”

Daisy pulled away and sniffed, pointing to her elbow with watery eyes. Louis pressed a kiss on the spot gently and stroked her hair.

“Better?”

She nodded into his shoulder and he smiled. She touched his arm softly. He winced, but her touch was feather light, and not painful at all. Quite a difference from before. It actually felt soothing, if he was honest. He probably should have put ice on it or something the night before.

“Can I kiss your arm and make it better?” She asked softly. Louis hesitated before nodding, pulling his arm out from under the covers and looking over the elegant script there. He had a thing for lyric tattoos, even though his entire right arm was covered by little doodles and cartoons that his mate Zayn had drawn out for him.

She kissed his arm softly. “What’s it say, LouLou?” She asked quietly, her eyes wide and shining instead of watery now. She traced each line with her fingertip gently. He smiled.

“So curious in the mornings, little one.”

“I’m not little!” she protested, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m eight! I’m in junior school with Phoebe now!”

“Yes, you’re growing like a weed.” He said, smile still on his face. “If you must know, flower, it’s the lyrics to a song. You know the one. The one you think is funny because it talks about sinking like a stone.”

She giggled and then nodded, her brow knitted in curiosity. “Why do you have that?”

“It’s a really important song to me.” He said quietly, hoping that was enough of an answer for her. She didn’t need to hear why, not yet. But someday, someday he would sit and tell her what they meant. She was always the one to ask. The others just rolled their eyes and carried on. “I’ll tell you about why someday. Maybe when you’re in Upper Sixth.”

“That’s a long time from now! You’re in Upper Sixth, Louis!”

“And you’ll just have to be patient, Daze. Now, come on. Let’s go get breakfast. I’m sure mummy has made something really delicious for all of us, and Phoebe will likely be giving Ted an ear scratch. You know how much more he likes your ear scratches.”

Once he said that, she hopped off his bed quickly and scampered out of the room, leaving Louis there to run his hands over his eyes and look down at his arm. He may have been a punk, but just because he was a punk didn’t mean he conformed to all standards of the subculture. He was kind of a shitty punk anyway, if he really thought about it. He had the tattoos and the piercings and listened to some of the music but. Did that qualify him as a full punk? Even if he did call himself a punk (or half punk, whichever) he liked listening to Fun. just as much as the next person, and Carry On had special meaning to him. So why the fuck not get it tattooed to his arm for all of eternity, even when he was rotting away in a grave. He was only young once, and he knew the song was important to him. He owed it to Nate Ruess to have it inked to his skin permanently.

Even if his mother didn’t exactly approve of his lifestyle choices. At least she disregarded it, let him live his life, let him do as he pleased as long as he let her know what his plans were. He owed her that much. She had been through so much in the past two years, and he knew that if he didn’t let her know what was going on, she would panic and send a search party out after him. She told him that he was like her best friend, and he had always been the one constant in her life, in her life the longest. So he listened to her when she needed, held her when she cried, and was a solid rock for her to lean on when life got to be too much for her to carry herself. Plus, to make it even easier on her, he was a good boy at home, stayed out of trouble at school, and just so happened to run around and get tattoos whenever he felt like it.

Not that anyone else would look past the ink, piercings and little bit of eyeliner he often wore, just to keep his shield up. Just so people wouldn’t be able to see through his rough exterior to where his heart really was.

He knew what people thought of him. Heard the whispers on the street when he walked down them to get to the grocery for medicine when one of the twins was sick. Heard it in the markets when he stopped to buy Lottie her favorite sweets and a packet of crisps for Fizz with the little bit of money he actually had. Heard it when the owner of the pet store they bought Ted's specialty dog food from had kicked him out of the store saying "he didn't want his store to have a bad reputation because people like Louis shopped there." They had known the store owner for years. But once Louis got his first tattoo (a deer on his right shoulder, representing bravery) people's opinions immediately changed. It didn't matter that he has once been "little Louis Tomlinson, the one from Cherry Lane." He became "that punk with the tattoos." Not to mention he was also gay, so homophobia and slurs were thrown at him constantly.

It hurt but he would never let it show through. Never. No one needed to see him fall apart. No one needed to get far enough past his walls to see the heart full of scars. No one needed too, and he was never going to let anyone.

Not even that pretty boy in lower sixth who he saw every day in the car park as he walked from the bus into the school. Harry, Louis thought his name was. The one with the chocolate brown curls that framed his face so beautifully. The one who was tall and lanky and sometimes clumsy, as if he was still trying to grow into his new limbs. The captain of the debate team. The smart boy. The one who sat one row and one seat ahead on his left in his history class, even though he was a year younger. The one Louis had spent thirty quid on an alarm clock for when he had pulled the name for Secret Snowflake when he was in year eleven, the boy was just a year younger. The one who was too smart to ever date Louis. The one who Louis was too afraid to approach, on the fear that the boy would see right through him with those piercing green eyes, and stare at him over the brim of his nose, only to tell Louis he was unworthy. The one who had all of the money and so much ahead of him, it wasn’t even worth it for Louis to try. No. Not even that boy. Not even that boy.

 

When Harry took his seat in his history class (an upper sixth class, might he add) it wasn't anything new. He sat in the front left corner of the room, set his bag on his left side, took out his red history notebook and binder, and two pens (obviously two in case one ran out of ink or didn’t work.). Most people would have called this the behavior of an overachiever, and honestly it wasn't uncommon, but Harry liked to call it being prepared. Even if it was being over prepared. Better to have extra than not enough, right?

When he had all of his things laid out that.. That was when he walked in.

Everyone knew him, Louis Tomlinson. He had a reputation that preceded him. A reputation that was so copious, no one knew how to separate truth from rumor when it came to the stories. There were tales of him being involved in some rather large drug circle, and that he dealt in the hallways between classes. There were stories of all of his tattoos being from the gangs he was involved in, and when people said that he couldn’t be in more than one, the common answer was that he was a double agent. There were rumors of him having several children that he never saw nor paid child support for because he lived on the wrong side of the tracks and couldn’t afford it. There were so many rumors, and none of them were good. But Harry wasn’t sure how many he believed, anyway. Louis had never really acted out in school, and surely he would if what was said about him was true, right? Surely he would have something that would call him out, make him stand out from the others. Something other than the tattoos and the eyeliner and the eyebrow piercing and the lip ring. Something that screamed “bad kid.” Something that would make Harry, who was ultimately judgement free and accepting of just about everyone, turn around and run.

But there was nothing, so until Harry actually got a chance to talk to the boy, then he was going to reserve judgement, and leave the issue at rest. Plus he was one of the most beautiful people Harry had ever seen, and was the owner of Harry's infatuation. Even though it couldn't possibly happen.

He was so, so, so beautiful. All arms and thighs and facial hair. With eyes that were so blue, they were little pieces of a clear summer sky brought in and contained above pixie like cheekbones and a smile that could completely light up a room. No matter how cliche it sounded, even though Harry had only seen him truly smile twice. It brought a new level of life and beauty to the boys face, and his eyes would crinkle up so hard at the corners, they would nearly shut. That's when Harry knew the boy was truly happy. That's when he looked his best. But it was more than that. He was more than that. He was band shirts and skinny jeans, tattoos and piercings, muscle shirts and beanies, and he shone brighter than the sun.

He watched Louis walk down the aisle to his seat, passing by him slowly. His notebooks and the red beanie that Harry had bought him for Secret Snowflake the previous year were tucked under his arm. He didn’t think that Louis had figured out that Harry was his snowflake, and Harry wasn’t sure that he wanted him to. The boy’s blue eyes met Harry’s green, and Harry sent him a small smile, only to be given a look of disgust in return as Louis threw himself down in his seat, tossing his bag (from Asda, not that Harry was paying attention) to the floor and putting his notebooks on the desk. He looked miserable, and he was favoring his left arm. Harry guessed that he must have gotten a new tattoo or something in order for him to be taking such care not to brush anything against it. If anything did hit it, the boy bit on his lip ring carefully to cover his pain, but Harry noticed. Harry noticed everything.

"First order of business." Their history teacher, Mr. Gilbert, said as he walked down the aisle way. He wasn't anything like the Gilbert on the Inbetweeners, but he also wasn't the Head of Sixth either. He was an older, balding man who wore glasses and had a round stomach that was barely contained under the sweater vests he wore every day. But he was pleasant enough, and he liked Harry. So. That was all that Harry really cared about. They got on well. "Hand up your papers about the French Revolution."

Harry had already had his out and on his desk, so he just watched in amusement as the rest of the class dug around their rucksacks for their own papers. Louis included. But he looked decidedly more panicked than the others, and when he couldn't find it, he hid his face in his hands as if to cover up tears or something.

"Tomlinson? Where's your essay?" Gilbert said, holding his hand out towards Louis expectantly.

"Please, sir." Louis said quietly. "I must have left it right on my kitchen table this morning, even though I swore it was in my bag. I thought I put it there last night... I promise, I have it done. I really do!"

"This isn't the first time this has happened, Mr. Tomlinson."

"I know but this time I'm not lying! I really have it done! I swear. This is my favorite topic for this class, why wouldn't I do a paper for my favorite topic? One of my sisters must have taken it out of my bag. Please, sir. I swear it’s finished."

“Sisters, or daughters, Tomlinson?” came a call from the back. Harry shot a glare in the general direction of the voice, and Louis’ shoulders slumped. He itched the back of his head with a sigh, and Harry swore he heard him mumble "sisters, twat" under his breath. From what Harry had gathered from observation, Louis was strong, and good at hiding what he was feeling, but everyone had a breaking point. Harry knew that well.

“Please, sir.” Louis said quietly.

“I’d like to see you after class, Louis.”

His shoulders slumped even further, and he hung his head. There were a few laughs from the back of the class again, and Harry shook his head. That wasn’t fair. Especially when the boy was clearly distraught. Harry had never lost homework before, he had a specific folder for it, but he knew that if he had done a paper and forgotten it at home, he would have been just the same. If not worse.

With that, the lesson began, and Harry made sure to take highly detailed, extremely neat notes as he usually did. He liked having everything written, so when he went back to revise what he needed too for exams, he would have it in as much detail as he could. Made retaining the information easier, and that’s how he had all A*, even in his advanced classes.

When the bell rang at the end of history, also signaling the end of the day, Harry packed up his things slowly while everyone else rushed out. He also liked being organized, but that was something that came with his eagerness for knowledge and learning. He liked knowing that everything had a place, and everything was in its place. That’s even how he thought of his brain. Like it was an elaborate system of filing where he could retrieve information whenever need be. And, today.. well. Today, he wanted to stay and watch Louis for just a bit before leaving. Wanted to see if the boy was going to be alright after their teacher said whatever it was he was going to say.

And if he dumped his pencils and pens all over the floor as a means to be stuck in the classroom for a few minutes longer, well. It was most definitely an accident.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Mr. Gilbert said as Harry navigated his way around the floor, picking up pencils as slowly as he possibly could while trying to remain unseen. His pencil case (Louis Vuitton) was the one thing he didn't care to have organized, but this time he made sure all the erasers were on the same end, and all of his pens were capped. He chanced a glance up, only to see that Gilbert had taken a seat on the desk across from Louis, who was looking at his hands.

“Yes, sir?” Louis said, not looking up.

“Mr. Tomlinson, you are in danger of failing the course due to incomplete work. It's seven weeks into term, Louis. You're already in danger of failing." Gilbert said. "If it’s because you’re truly forgetting your assignments, or you're actually struggling with the work, I can’t say. You’ve told me they’ve been finished, and I haven’t seen you follow through by turning them in. Turning them in late is better than not at all. If you’re struggling with the course work, something can be arranged for you. But if you don’t tell me what’s actually going on, then I can’t help you. You’re a good kid, Louis. I want the best for you, even if the others here have given up on you.”

“Sir, I swear. I did the essay this time.” Louis said, his voice pleading. “I really did. The other times, I might have lied. But this class, it’s not easy for me. None of it is, only drama. I try really hard but it’s just not easy for me like it is for the others. But this time I really, really did the essay. I know this topic well. I really do.”

“I can help you.”

Harry had no idea what made him say it. But once it was out in the open, Louis' head snapped up and turned in his direction with an expression of shock written all over his beautiful face. Harry stood, then. He had collected all of his pencils a few seconds before that. If there was another thing he was good at, it was his timing.

"Mr. Styles?" Gilbert said, his brow furrowing. "You're willing to help Louis, with no pay, to ensure he passes this class with at least a B*?"

"Of course." Harry said, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Louis was staring at him like he had two heads."Why wouldn't I?"

“You don’t have to.” Louis mumbled, casting his eyes back to the floor. “I’m not worth the trouble.”

Harry ignored him because, he was worth the trouble. At least for Harry. Something about this boy compelled him. “It’s really no problem. I’ll be able to go over the material twice this way. It won’t be an issue. I’ll just have to let my mum know. Are Wednesdays after school alright for you? We can see what you need to work on and then decide if you need more than one day. I just can’t do Monday, or Thursday. I’ve got to look after my goddaughter on those days.”

“Wednesday is fine.” Louis mumbled. Harry nodded.

“I’ll meet you in the Library, then. After class. It’ll be easiest, and the library is open until four on Wednesdays. We can get information and stuff from each other then. That way we can contact each other if need be... See you.”

“See you..” Louis echoed.

And with that, Harry shouldered his bag and left the room. He looked back at Louis one more time before making his exit, and then he was on his way to go see his goddaughter, Lux.

If he had looked back one more time, he would have seen the way Louis had slumped down in his desk, his eyes sparkling with what might have been hope.

 

When Louis got home that evening after his commute on the bus (he really needed a fucking car. If he had his car he could help his mum with the girls even more, and get home faster), it was only to find his four sisters screaming at the top of their lungs over the television remote. Lottie wanted to watch The Only Way is Essex, Fizz wanted to watch The Inbetweeners (which was so inappropriate for all four of them there was no way that was going to happen), and Phoebe and Daisy just wanted to watch cartoons. Their mother wasn’t home, (she had mentioned something about working a double at the hospital) so naturally, Louis had to be the moderator of the situation. And it was easily solved.

He just took the remote, threw the girls outside, and locked the door. He could do with a bit of quiet, anyway. He needed time to think.

In the neighborhood they lived in, you would think that he would have more caution when it came to throwing his four sisters out on their own. But since they had lived there since the girls were born, and no one had came or left, he felt completely safe leaving them there. They made up their own games, and were perfectly capable of entertaining themselves. Lottie and Fizz came up with games that were complicated, yet simple enough for Daisy and Phoebe to understand, even when the two older girls would change the rules because they had the power to. Plus Ted was always there to keep an eye on them.

So while they were out making up some game that consisted of blades of grass, a bottle cap and a stick they had found in the yard, Louis cracked open a beer and settled in on his couch, turning on reruns Jeeves and Wooster before his show (Downton Abbey) was due to start. He then pulled a pillow into his lap, tugged his beanie lower over his eyes, and starting nursing his drink.

Harry Styles. Harry fucking Styles, wanted to help him. Wanted to make sure he passed history so he could take his A Levels and maybe go on to university. Even though, if Louis were to be completely honest, that wasn’t likely to happen. He would most likely go right out and get a job to help his mum out. He didn’t want the girls to not have the best education possible. He wanted all four of them to be able to go to uni and do whatever they wanted with their lives. And that was going to take some sacrifices on his part. Sacrificing his dream of teaching drama. And yeah, he knows it’s silly. The way he is. He should just want to sit at home on his arse and cause trouble, but he doesn’t. He really doesn’t. He wants to teach so bad it hurts. Especially after the day he had. Gilbert didn’t have to give him any leeway. None of the other teachers had. But he had told Louis that he believed in him, even if the others had given up. And, well. That’s more than anyone else has ever done for him. And that’s something he wants to do for other people. He wants to give them some sort of hope, some sort of self-worth, something that shows other people care.

And apparently Harry Styles wants him to succeed to. Believes in him. And for someone who has never had a person look twice at him because he’s “scary” (only the posh ones would say that, but Harry Styles is posh and he didn’t even utter the word) that’s a big deal for him (it’s also a stereotype sort of. or a generalization, rather). Someone wants to help him. Two people want to help him. And for the first time, he allows himself to feel a little bit of hope.

That’s when his arm started to itch. And when he says it started to itch, he means it really started to itch. Bad. And he knew better than to itch a new tattoo. So he set his beer down on the coffee table, and sprinted up to the bathroom, where he kept his cream. He rubbed it into his skin in an even layer, eyes travelling downward, reading over the words in the mirror.

“Carry on.” He said quietly. That was what he needed to do. That’s all he needed to do. He needed to press on no matter what came to his mind, no matter what he thought would set him back. It wasn’t going to be easy, and sometimes he would need to go it alone, but he had to carry on. And even when he was going at it alone, he was going to need others to help him to do so. No one was ever truly alone on their journeys. He needed friends to get him through it, to keep him moving forward.

And that was when Harry Styles came back into the forefront of his vision. That was when he realized that he might just be a little bit in love with him already. Just based on the simple fact that Harry wanted to help him. He wanted Louis to make it.

He let his eyes wander over the rest of his tattoos on his right arm, the compass, the bird, the cartoon paper airplane. He let his eyes drift to the center of his chest, where “It Is What It Is” was scripted under his black Killers shirt. Each tattoo was something to him, even the stupid heart between the deer’s antlers he had gotten when he was drunk. Even the little camera and globe he got when he was higher than a kite. All of them meant something, even if they didn’t look very punk of him. He had two favorites, and they were his more recent tattoos. The half sleeve and the chest piece. He liked to look at them, read them over, and think about what they meant.

He ran a hand over the scruff on his jaw, toying with his lip ring carefully and letting his eyes lock with the ones in the mirror. He looked so tired, and the eyeliner he had taken to wearing when he decided to drastically alter his image didn’t really help. It helped cover up the bags, and some of the dark circles there, but it didn’t mean that his eyes didn’t look dull and empty. It had been so so long since he had anything that made him feel alive. The partying had done it for a while, the booze, the drugs, the constant strain of girls who wanted him even though he only wanted one lad.. It had all kept him sated for a while, but he needed something different. Something that would help him feel like he was more than taking up space. Just someone.

Louis heard a shrill scream from outside, and he jumped before he bolted from the bathroom, tripped down the stairs, fumbled with the lock, and sprinted out to the front yard. Only to find that Lottie and Fizz has somehow managed to tie the twins to a tree and were hitting the spot just above their head with twigs.

"What the hell are you doing?!" He shouted. Lottie and Fizz turned to him with wide eyes. "What kind of game is this?! Tormenting your sisters isn't okay! I thought I could trust you with them!"

"It was just a game, Loulou." Fizz said gently. Louis glared at her, walking over to the trees to untie the trembling girls. He scooped them up in his arms, ignoring the pain in his left, and balanced one on each hip.

"A game?!" He cried. "A game?! Tying your sisters, your little sisters, to a tree and hitting the spot above them with a branch is a game to you?! What was the object? To see who ended up with a broken nose first? Come on, loves. Lets get you inside."

Daisy buried her head in his shoulder and Phoebe closed her eyes, sniffling into his neck. He sighed.

"Look how you've scared them." He said, shaking his head. He carried the two littlest ones into the house, and set them both down on the counter in their kitchen, inspecting them for injuries before dropping kisses to the tops of their heads. "I'm sorry, loves. I didn't think they would do that. You usually get on so well."

"They told us it was going to be fun, Loulou." Daisy said quietly. "But it wasn't fun. It was scary."

"I know, love." Louis said with a sigh, dropping another kiss to her head. "Now, let's see what mum has for me to make you dinner, yeah?"

"Mummy isn't cooking?" Phoebe asked. Louis shook his head.

"She has to work really late tonight, so I'll be taking care of you guys. Is that alright? I mean. If you don't like me, all you have to do is say so, and I'll go find somewhere else to live."

By the end he was pretending to cry, and Daisy and Phoebe were hugging him around his neck, saying how much they loved him. They were petting his hair and kissing his head and absolutely doting on him, and he was grinning under his hands.

"If you're sure." he said, mustering as broken of a voice as he could. "I guess I'll stay here with you guys."

"You have to stay!" Daisy said, throwing her arms in the air.

"Have to!" Phoebe echoed with a nod.

"You have to keep us safe from Lottie and Fliss!"

"Well, now I definitely don't have a choice." he said with a smile. "Now come on, give me hugs and then we can make dinner."

After he had the girls all settled and fed, he let them have an hour of telly that he picked out, and then it was their homework time before they got ready for bed. That’s how he ran things at the house when his mum wasn’t around, and all the girls knew that. But he was prepared for the usual round of complaints when he came in and turned the telly off before rushing them off to their rooms. At nine, he would go up to their rooms and tuck them in, read Daisy and Phoebe a story and then return back to their sitting room to wait for their mum. She would be home at midnight, and he wanted to make sure that her dinner was warm and on the table before filling her in on the day’s events and retiring to bed himself after making an attempt at his homework. It was his day to day life, and he wished so desperately that it wasn’t like that. Wished that he had more time to work on his dreams before they had absolutely no chance to become a reality. But he was the man in the house, forced to grow up before his time, and he had to take care of his family and put his dreams aside.

His mother’s return was announced by the sound of keys landing in ceramic and the front door closing. Louis had just finished plating out her dinner and pouring her a glass of red wine when she emerged from their front hall. She looked exhausted, as she usually did. But she met him with a kind smile and sat down with him to eat.

“How were the girls today, love?” she asked him quietly. He sighed.

“Lottie and Fliss thought it would be funny to tie Daze and Pheeb up to a tree, and hit the spot above their heads repeatedly with a stick.” Louis said. “Mum they’re getting out of control. I don’t know what to do about it. Fliss wanted to watch the Inbetweeners. The Inbetweeners, mum. That’s almost inappropriate for me! And she wants to be watching it. Not to mention that they could have hurt the twins badly if I hadn’t heard the screams and got them in the house.”

“Good thing you were here.” she said, her voice tired. His eyes widened. “Louis. Not right now, please. I’ll talk to the girls about it in the morning. But I’ve just come off a double shift in a ward full of screaming mothers and newborn babies. I’m exhausted. I need to sleep. I’ll think about it more tomorrow. I have the day off.”

“And I’m not exhausted?!” Louis said, instantly feeling exasperated. “I got up this morning, made the girls breakfast, went to school, got in trouble with a teacher who told me I needed a tutor, came home, took care of the girls, made them dinner, helped a bit with their homework, put them to bed, and made sure you had dinner warm on the table. All I want is a little bit of a break, and I want them to behave because they’re getting to be out of control.”

“Louis, please.” his mother said, sounding even more tired.

“You know what?” Louis said, shoving away from the table. “Fine. Fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it tomorrow. Whatever. Goodnight.”

When he got to his room, he made sure to slam the door.

 

When Harry was out of classes on Wednesday, he went straight to the library and got he and Louis a table in one of the back corners before spreading his notes and books out on his half. He wasn’t sure exactly of what he was supposed to do when he was a tutor, really. But he had asked Gilbert for copies of the work that Louis owed, so they could at least do some of that for Louis to turn in the next class. Other than that, he was going to wing it. He was really only looking for a way to spend a bit of extra time with the boy, and if this was what he needed to do, he was more than willing. He was thinking they might even be able to become friends before the year was out. Just to fill a little bit of the void he had in his heart when it came to Louis. Because he could never date him, even if Louis was gay. His parents would have a field day. At least, his stepdad would (since that was his reaction when he told them he was gay. He had wanted to throw Harry out but his mum had stepped in. Her reaction was the one he expected. She hugged him and told him she loved him no matter who he wanted to love.) But he wasn’t so sure about how his mum would react. She was okay with him being gay, but being gay for someone on the wrong side of the tracks? It was just difficult to predict her reaction. Lou and Tom lived on the wrong side of the tracks, but they had been friends of the family for ages. (Plus the only reason they did live there was because each of them refused to touch money from their parents. They were together, happy, healthy and had little baby Lux. And Tom owned a tattoo shop while Lou worked as a hairstylist.) He was hoping that, if anything ever happened with he and Louis (which it wouldn’t because there was no guarantee he was even gay) that his mum would just want to see him happy.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and he looked up to see Louis standing there, dressed in his usual school uniform, his hair fringed into his eyes. He wasn’t wearing eyeliner. It was smudged beneath his eyes, though. Like it had been hastily wiped away. And that made Harry curious, even though he could tell the boy was nervous from the way he was wringing that stupid read beanie in his hands. If Harry had known how much he was going to love the thing, he would have bought him more than one color.

“Uhm.. Can I sit?” Louis asked quietly, his eyes (so, so blue) darted over to the chair before locking back onto Harry’s.

“Yeah, yeah! Of course!” Harry said quickly, and Louis quirked up a corner of his mouth before pulling his blazer off. His white button-up was tight on his arms, and the black ink of his tattoos could be seen through the fabric. It was also quite fitting around his middle, showing off the slightest tummy, and Harry had to look away before he was caught staring. “You’re not wearing eyeliner.”

He clapped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words left. For being as smart as he was, he sure could be stupid. And he certainly said a lot of things he didn’t think through, that being one of them. And he always felt bad after saying them, so he hung his head and pulled on his hair gently.

“I didn’t want to scare you.” Louis mumbled, pulling a chair out and sitting down cautiously. He dug through his bag and pulled out a single red notebook with the word “History” written across the top. “So I wiped it off before I came. Made a right mess of myself, though. That stuff never comes off easy, no matter what I use.”

“So why do you wear it, then?” Harry said, then he realized what he said was stupid and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I keep asking stupid questions. Shall we get started?”

“‘S a security blanket, I suppose. Not a good reason, but it’ll have to do. I’m not exactly sure why I wear it, and I’m not exactly sure how tutoring works.” Louis said with a shrug, picking up his pen and rolling it between his fingers. “Not sure why you want to help me, either. You hear the things they say about me. A lad like you should just turn around and run in the opposite direction and not stop until you get as far away as possible.”

Harry knew that he wasn’t going to figure out Louis Tomlinson at any point in the near future, and that was frustrating to him a little bit. He wasn’t used to being patient when it came to getting things figured out. That’s why he wasn’t as good at maths as he was in history or English. Even though it took him a bit of time in English, he still figured it out quicker than maths.

He pulled out his brand new iPhone (a 5, even though his 4s was still functioning perfectly. It was a gift for deciding to go into sixth form.) and navigated to his contact list before pressing “add new”.

“First things first.” he said, sliding the phone across the table. “Put your number in. That way if one of us has to cancel, you have questions or just need to talk or whatever.”

Louis glanced at the phone in front of him before tapping his name and number into the respective boxes before sliding it back across the table. He didn’t make a move for his own phone, and Harry was curious as to why, but he had thought he had said enough stupid things for one day, so he left it. He didn’t want Louis to hate him before they even had a chance to like each other.

“Just text me.” he mumbled. “I’ll check it and add you later.”

Harry nodded sending a quick 'hey it's Harry Styles' before stuffing his phone back into his trousers. “Uhm.. So. I asked Mr. Gilbert for copies of the things you owe, I hope that’s okay? And I figured you could work on them and stop when you need to ask questions? I think that’s how this will work best. I mean. If you think of a better idea, you can let me know. But.. this was the best I could come up with.”

Louis nodded and Harry handed him a page from the top of the stack. It was notes about the Protestant Reformation, and their journey to America as colonists under the King.

“Just get as many done as you can.” Harry said, pulling his politics book towards him. “If you need help, ask.”

They worked in silence for an hour, and then Louis pushed his chair back. Harry glanced up at him, then scanned his eyes over the worksheet, only to see that it was full of ink, and the answers were all correct. He knew the answers without asking Harry. That just proved that he was smart, and he did know what he was doing. He wasn’t just a stick in the mud like everyone else thought.

“I, uh.” Louis said with a cough as he took the worksheet back from Harry. “I.. I just wanted to tell you.. none of the things they say about me are true.”

“I never said they were.” Harry said with a soft smile. Louis shrugged.

“Just wanted you to hear it from me.”

And then he was gone, and Harry was left to pack up his things alone. But he did so in a rush, so he was just behind Louis when he left the library. He was lucky that the library was so large, or else he wouldn’t have been able to catch up with him.

“Do you need a ride home?” He asked when he caught up to the shorter boy. Louis jumped and turned to look at him before shaking his head.

“I’d rather take the bus.” He said quietly. “I just. It’s not far. I can even walk, honestly.”

“I insist.” Harry said. “I’ve got a full tank and drive a petrol guzzler. I need to burn some of it so the debate team can ridicule me more, alright?”

Louis sighed. “I’ll let you drive me to my street. Then you have to drop me off. I don't want you going any farther, and if you do, I'll know about it. My neighbors keep a close eye on who comes and goes. If they see someone suspicious or a luxury car in my drive my mum will know about it. And right now she doesn't know anything about this whole tutoring thing. And I don't want her to. She's got enough to worry about."

Harry brushed off the last comment, even though it filled him with curiosity (everything about the boy did, really. Every word, gesture... everything), and led Louis out to his car. He missed the way Louis' eyes widened when he saw the Range Rover, and he missed him running a hand through his hair before stuffing the beanie down over it. He climbed up into the car just as Harry put his phone on the aux cord in his stereo. He couldn't stand the sound of the radio anymore, unless he was on his way to school and listening to Nick Grimshaw. He had a bloody hilarious show. Harry's mate, Niall, who was on the football team and the debate team, had gotten him hooked one morning that they had off school. It was during the winter hols, and Niall had stayed over. Usually the Irish lad never woke up, but on weekdays his body had an auto clock like Harry's, so he woke Harry up for Grimmy's show. He'd been hooked ever since.

"Your music is shit." Louis said as Ray Lamontagne began to play though the speakers, and Harry started to drive, following Louis' pointed instructions. Harry tried not to be offended, tried not to make a stereotypical comment back at Louis, but the harder he tried, the harder he failed. Which was odd. He wasn't used to having to watch what he said. But then again, he had known all of his friends for much longer than Louis. And his infatuation with the older boy probably didn’t help either. He had said, what, three?, stupid things since the beginning of this little extravaganza or what have you.

"Like yours is much better." he said with a snort. "I bet you listen to like. Pierce the Veil and Bring Me the Horizon.. All of that stuff. That's shit, mate. Hurts my ears. Sorry I can't live up to your expectations."

"Those are just two of over four hundred artists I do listen to, young Harold." Louis said, dropping the nickname like he had known Harry his whole life. "And I'd appreciate it if you don't call my music shit until you know me. This is, what, the first time we've ever talked?"

"Then I expect you to extend me the same courtesy." Harry said, keeping his voice even. "And, here's something you should know about me: don't start a debate. I'll kick your ass."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

Harry realized at that moment exactly how close their faces were, and his eyes flicked down to Louis' lips before he shook his head. Shaking his wonder of what Louis’ lips would feel like under his out of his mind. He had leaned in closer subconsciously, as he usually did when he was in close quarters with someone and having a discussion (argument, rather). Louis seemed to notice too, because he pulled away and turned to look out the window.

"My street is the next right." he muttered. Harry nodded and drove the short way before pulling the car to a stop. Louis jumped out, gathered his things, and left without a goodbye or a thank you.

Harry sighed. He was already fucking things up.

When he got home that evening, he went right to his room after grabbing an apple out of the bowl on the kitchen table. He could always sneak down into the kitchen later that night if he got hungry. His parent's bedroom was on the opposite end of the house, so they wouldn't hear the microwave go off, and their live-in housekeeper wouldn't say anything. She was fond of Harry and kept his dongs a secret, when she caught him, that is.

So he went up to his room, did his homework, messed around on Facebook and Tumblr, and got into his bed before putting his phone on the charger and picking up Hamlet off his night stand. It was his favorite Shakespeare play, and that was easily spotted by how worn the spine of his copy was.

He was just getting to Polonius’ saying “To thine ownself be true” to Laertes when his phone buzzed from its place on his night stand.

 

From: Louis Tomlinson

22:30

 

Thank you.

 

Less than five miles away, Louis Tomlinson was curled under his blanket with Daisy (who had had a bad dream) nestled into his arms. He just hoped that Harry recognized all of the meaning behind the words.

The next Wednesday. Louis greeted Harry by throwing a CD he had burned on top of the geography notes the boy was bent over. He had spent all weekend trying to figure out which of his songs wouldn't hurt Harry's ears, and when he was satisfied with his selection, he popped a blank disk into his computer, and let the magic happen. He scribbled "mix for harry" onto the disk and slid it into a sleeve, listing the twenty four tracks on the paper before putting it in a spot he knew it wouldn't get damaged.

"What's this?" Harry asked, picking the disc up.

"Nudes, obviously. For your wank bank. Consider it a donation from the Tomlinson bum." Louis said, dead serious. Harry's eyes widened and he choked a bit, and Louis started to laugh. "I'm joking, idiot. It's a playlist of songs that I like that won't hurt your ears. It took me two days to make that, so you'd better appreciate it, Curly."

“I do.” Harry replied with a smile. “I would have appreciated nudes more, honestly. But this’ll have to do.”

Louis let out a bark of laughter that earned him a glare from the librarian before he took his seat. Harry just smiled and sent him a wink over the top of his textbook before lowering his eyes back down.

Then he decided to be ambitious, and he took two worksheets from the pile in front of Harry, starting to work on them. Every now and again he would chance a look up at the boy, watching him for a moment before returning to his own work. He learned a lot through observation (he wouldn't call it staring. Harry was... Just. He couldn't.) and noticed a lot of little things about the boy that no one else would pick up on. Like the tiny lines between his eyebrows when they would crease in concentration, or how he would chew the eraser of his pencil when he was trying hard to focus. And sometimes he would mumble to himself about asking Gemma (whoever she was, hopefully not a girlfriend) how to do a maths problem. He would also stop and run a hand through those beautiful chocolate brown curls that Louis wished he could touch so badly it hurt. And he would squeeze his jade green eyes shut from time to time, as if he was going through an extensive filing system in his brain to find an answer. Other times he would toy with the paper airplane necklace he always wore, or spin his countless bracelets around on his wrist.

"Hey, Harry?" Louis asked. The green eyed boy looked up at him with a small smile. Louis meant to ask him why he was helping. Why he had taken an interest. Why he was bothering to waste his time with Louis when he had so much ahead of him and Louis could only ever see himself here, with his single mother, helping her to raise the girls. But instead, he asked: "Could you help with number four? I feel like it might be a trick question."

"What's the question?"

"Who was Anne Hathaway married to," Louis said. "If you think about it. He should specify. There is the Anne Hathaway from now, and the one from like, four hundred years ago."

Harry smiled in a, dare Louis say, fond way.

"It's history class, Louis. What Anne Hathaway do you think he's talking about?"

"Probably not the one from Princess Diaries. But still he should specify, shouldn’t he? Someone else could get confused!"

"You've seen that movie?" Harry asked, looking like a kid on Christmas. "My sister Gemma” -so Gemma was his sister, thank god- “used to make me watch it all the time. I'm glad I'm not the only guy who's been sucked into it!"

"I've got twin eight year old sisters, a fourteen year old sister, and a twelve year old sister, mate. The only thing I watch is chick flicks. And Grease. But only because it's my favorite musical, and the girls enjoy it too."

"I haven't seen Grease before."

Louis gasped. "Then I'm afraid I can't allow you to tutor me. Anyone who hasn't watched it is an enemy of mine. I can't possibly learn from an enemy!"

"Maybe we should just watch it together." Harry suggested. But there was no way Louis was going to let that happen.. Not in a million years.

"Maybe." Louis said quietly, scribbling Shakespeare onto the worksheet to finish it up before stuffing it into his bag and moving onto the next one. “Why would he even ask that? Isn’t that like. A question for English class? Or like. Drama? I would doubt even my drama teacher knows the answer to that, actually.”

“Well, then.” Harry said with a shrug. “You’re one step ahead of him, aren’t you?”

Louis just shrugged in response, working on the next set of questions. One thing he liked about these “tutoring” sessions, or whatever they were referred as, was that it was more like time for him to actually get work done. He did as much homework he could do at home, and then when he needed to finish the extra work, he had an extra hour of time each week before he had to go home to the girls. Luckily, his mother didn’t tend to work doubles on Wednesdays, but he still never knew what he was going to go home to. Ever since Mark had left, she would just have days where she didn’t get out of bed. On those days, he would get the girls and himself to school, and then come home to an absolutely destroyed house while his mother laid in bed, asleep or oblivious to everything going on around her. He hated it, because she really needed to get out of the funk she was in. But she was his mum so he couldn’t bloody tell her that, could he? He just had to deal with it and take care of the girls and get through the day without breaking down.

That was his number one rule. Never have a break down. Never let them see your weakness. Never let the tears spill. And he had done well keeping to it, recently. Even though home was getting worse and he just wanted to run away. Go back in time to a place where he was happy. Where they were happy. He and the girls and his mum. Back before Mark had come home after a few too many, called Jay a useless slut with a faggoty son, told her that he had been having an affair, and then left without a word of goodbye. Back when the real world and his life hadn’t come to slap him in the face and he just was.

Harry gives Louis a ride to his street again that afternoon, and Louis accepts it gratefully instead of hesitating. He’s had a tiring day, and walking would just exert more energy that he didn’t really have at the moment. Plus he needed to rejuice for the girls. As Harry pulls the car to a stop at the top of the road, Louis hesitates before opening the door.

“Harry?” he asked quietly, keeping his head turned away. He stuffed his beanie down over his eyes, wishing that he knew who had bought the thing for him. It’s like his security blanket, now. Doesn’t feel safe without it. Just like his eyeliner. “Why are you helping me? Like. Everyone else at school thinks I’m a lost cause, and you don’t... So. I. I guess I’m just, like. A bit confused.”

Everything goes quiet, then. And he clearly heard Harry drum his fingers on the steering wheel before taking a breath. He also heard the leather upholstery in the car squeak as Harry turned. He heard the gear click into park, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder, urging him to look over it. He stayed steady, looking forward, down the road and at the broken homes that were his neighborhood. His life. A place he didn’t want to stay, but was bound to forever.

“I’m on the debate team.” Harry said, simply.

Louis turned at that, his brows knit together. “That’s an odd answer to that question.”

“I’m on the debate team.” He repeated. “And if there’s one thing that being a debater teaches you, it’s that absolutely no question is a lost cause. There’s always something that you can find to make a logical argument and keep fighting your side of the case. There’s always something, some small detail you can elaborate on, even if you lose sight of the main point. So, I guess what I’m trying to say. Is you’re like. This giant question. And I’m the one who has to elaborate and frame an argument around you.”

“So I’m a simmering question, and you need to relight the argument.”

Harry nods.

“You’re not a lost cause, Louis. You’re worth it, at least to me. I don’t give up a fight when I think there’s something left. I just wish you would understand. I wish you would see.”

I’m starting to, I think. Louis wanted to say. But he doesn’t. He just nodded, and then he took off down the street as Harry pulled his car away. But he didn’t go home. Doesn’t want to, not right now. Not when his eyes were burning and his heart was swelling with a little bit more emotion than it had been when he left school that day. Not when he just fell a little bit harder for Harry Styles after he had given his elaborate explanation to Louis. No. He didn’t want to go home.

So he kept walking straight instead of turning into his driveway, and kept walking until he reached the little, run down tattoo parlor where he got all of his ink done. He pulls twenty quid out of the pocket of his trousers and throws his blazer onto the back of a chair in the waiting area. Luckily for him the parlor is so sketchy looking, there are hardly ever people in there at that time of night, so he never had to wait long. Today it’s just he and the owner of the shop. A man covered in as many tattoos Louis had.

“Louis!” Tom, the tattoo artist says with a toothy grin. Louis returns the smile and plops down in the empty chair, eyeing the needles Tom has just finished cleaning. “What can I do for you today?”

“Ink me.” He says, looking at the pictures of a bouncy toddler tacked to the wall in front of him. He knew her to be Tom’s daughter, Lux. He had never met the girl, but sometimes Tom would tell little anecdotes about her while he was coloring in one of Louis’ tattoos. They always made Louis laugh, and that happened so rarely now it was a nice escape.

“What do you want, and where?”

 

When Louis gets to the library the next week, Harry could tell that he was in for a treat by the way Louis didn’t say anything and (quite literally) threw his bag across the table. The fact that he didn’t say anything to Harry was also a giveaway, even. He usually said something. Or did something to let Harry know that he was okay. But today. There was nothing. Louis just pulled a page from the top of the stack and started working.

Harry furrowed his brows together, but didn’t say anything. He figured that Louis wouldn’t say anything until he was ready, and that was okay. Even if the curly haired lad wanted so desperately to see into Louis’ mind that it hurt. He couldn’t. So he just opened up his copy of Game of Thrones, content to read while Louis worked. Harry had finished the majority of his homework in his study period that day. What he didn’t finish, he would finish at home before he went to bed. He just wanted time to catch up in the book before watching more of the series on his HBO Go account his parents had given him for Christmas the previous year. He was quite into American television. At least the HBO shows.

But, it was fairly hard for Harry to concentrate when Louis kept muttering “stupid fuckers” under his breath and rubbing at his left wrist, which was bandaged for some reason. Harry tried to keep focused on the words inked onto the page, but he just couldn’t. So, growing increasingly more frustrated, he snapped his book shut and dropped it on the table in front of him, causing Louis to startle a bit.

“What,” Harry began in a voice that was laced with bitter frustration. “The hell. Is wrong. With you.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Louis said twirling his pen between his fingers, his eyes downcast and staring at the page in front of him. He drew a line in the margin and then began to draw little circles around it. Harry snatched the paper away from him and Louis looked up, startled again.

“Don’t lie to me.” Harry said, his eyes narrowing. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s reading people. It’s another thing being a debater is good for. And poker games with my step-dad. But seriously, Louis. Fucking talk to me.”

“I don’t have to say anything I don’t want to say. Especially not to you.” Louis snapped, trying to grab the worksheet back from Harry’s grasp. Harry held tight, and Louis relented after a moment. He was right handed, and grabbing the page with his left.

“Sorry for trying to be a friend!” Harry shot back. “You’ve clearly had a shit day and I just wanted to help.”

“I haven’t had a shit day. You don’t know anything about me!”

“I see right fucking through you, Louis.” Harry said, his voice low. “I see right through you and I can read you like the fucking pages of a book. I know when you’ve had a shit day, and today you’ve had a shit day. But now I have the chance to actually ask you what’s going on and you treat me like I’ve given you a death sentence.”

“Fuck you, Harry. Fuck you.” Louis voice is just as low, and his eyes have a defensive glint in them that Harry has never seen before. That’s something that’s new to him. He’s used to them being a window into Louis’ mind, never a defense mechanism. It causes him to recoil slightly. “You don’t know shit about me. So don’t fucking pretend you do.”

“I’m trying!” Harry replied. “But you won’t tell me anything. Hell, you won’t even let me drive down your road! I want to be friends with you, Louis. Why is that such a hard concept to grasp?!”

Louis didn’t answer. He just shoved his chair back and threw his bag across his shoulder. Luckily, Harry also had fast reflexes, so he grabbed his wrist as he walked away. His left wrist.

Louis let out a yelp of pain, and wrenched his arm away, causing the bandage to fall to the floor. And there, inked into his skin in black, was a question mark. Harry furrowed his brows for a second, only to verify that yes, it was real and yes, it most likely had to do with what Harry had told Louis the previous week. But in his hesitation, Louis broke free of his grip and set off across the library.

Harry left his things where they were and darted after him, catching him by his bicep and cornering him in the empty hallway.

“Damnit, Louis. Talk to me.” He said, his tone softer.

“Fine.” Louis spat. “Fine. You want to fucking know why my day was shit? Fine. The musical this year is Peter fucking Pan, and I mentioned something to my mate, Zayn in passing. Saying that I might fucking want to audition. Some posh idiot named Niall heard me say it. Spread it around the entire fucking school, and they all fucking laughed at me all day. Called me a faggot. Called me a bender. Told me it was because I wanted to spunk over the other boys in the cast. Told me I’d get the role of Tinkerbell because I’m not manly enough to play Peter. Told me the tattoos would be shit with the costume even though there’s such a thing as concealer. Told me there was no point because I’m shit at everything except knocking girls up and wouldn’t get into the show anyway. Shot every insult they could think of at me. Knocked my books out of my arms, trampled on my papers, ripped some of them, including an application for University that the counselor gave me even though I can’t fucking go to uni anyway because of personal shit, and then they continuously called me every name in the book. So fucking what if I’m gay and want to be in the fucking musical? I’m in fucking drama class. I fucking love theatre. Sue me. It’s like a fucking crime to like things against the norm. Jesus Christ.”

By the end of his rant, he was breathing hard. Harry dropped his arm and took a step back, just to look at him for a minute. Look at the way his chest rose and fell underneath his fitted uniform shirt, the way the scruff along his jaw framed his face. Look at how his blue eyes were vulnerable, now. The thick, black eyeliner doing nothing to help. The way he was suddenly trying to make himself small under Harry’s scrutiny. The way he had shrunk back against the lockers and tugged his beanie low over his fringe. This was the first time Harry had actually gotten Louis to open up, and he was trying to process everything that was just said to him. And it looked like Louis was trying to process everything that just came out of his mouth.

“If you want to audition for the musical,” Harry said quietly, “you should just do it. Fuck the rest of them. Punk Rock Peter could be an interesting interpretation of the show. It could bring on an entirely new set of artistic choices and style. It could be good for this school to have a Peter Pan with tattoos. And who cares if you’re gay? I am too and I don’t give a fuck. What’s my business is my business, and if anyone gave me shit, I would give it back to them just as bad. Fuck the haters, Louis. They’ll be there forever. So you can either keep letting them get to you, or hear what they say, and learn from it.”

Louis was looking down at his feet by the time Harry finished talking.

“It’s just so easy to listen to them,” he muttered as he scuffed his shoe on the tile floor. “It’s so fucking easy.”

“If you listen to every word a person says to you or about you, you’re doomed.” Harry said with a shrug. “You’re probably going to end up killing yourself if you do. So what you need to do is learn to separate the good from the bad, the criticism from the ridicule, and from there you need to transform it into something that’s not going to hurt you every time you think about it. Like I said, there’s always going to be people who hate you. But there’s always going to be people who love you too.”

Louis smiled then. A true, full blown, million watter. One that made his eyes crinkle up at the corners, and caused him to look down at his feet. And fuck all if that wasn’t the biggest damn smile Harry had ever seen split someone’s face.

 

Friday there was a party. Zayn had been talking to him about it all week, and Louis knew that that’s just what he needed. Needed the booze, the drugs. Maybe even the sex. Yeah. That’s what he could use. A good lay. A good lay would get the thoughts of green eyes and curls out of his mind for sure. And if not, he could always drink himself into oblivion or blaze up in the bathroom of the house with Zayn, and then they would make out and everything would be fine. All of the frustration would be gone and Louis could go back to whatever it is his life was at that moment in time and be fine.

So, he dressed in his favorite black jeans and white t-shirt and pulled his beanie down over his fringe, before toying with his lip ring and staring himself down in his bathroom mirror for a good five minutes. The he decided that this was as good as it was going to get for the night, and he didn’t have anyone to impress, and it didn’t take clothes for him to pull a lad. It usually just took a shake of his hips and a whisper in the ear before he had someone melted around him. Then it was a tangle of sweaty skin and cursing and biting because when he was getting laid, he liked it rough.

By the time he and Zayn pulled up at the large house on the other side of town, cars were littering the lawn, and the whole house was lit. Someone was hanging out a window of the second level, shouting to someone down at the ground, and Louis shook his head. If there was one thing he liked about himself, it was his ability to keep his head on straight, even after three or four drinks and a few hits of weed. Zayn was just the same, and that’s why they often went to parties together. Even if it meant crashing in Zayn’s car until the next morning when they were both sober enough to drive home.

The music was pumping as they walked through the door. Some top 40’s hit that Louis had never heard before, and never cared to hear. He just needed alcohol, and he needed it that very second or else he was going to explode.

“There’s that Niall bloke.” Zayn said into his ear, pointing at the blonde lad who was sitting at the couch with a girl sprawled across his lap. His loud laughter could be heard over the music and Louis cringed.

“Let’s just get drinks, yeah? Leave it.” Louis replied, walking to the back garden where the kegs were. Zayn trailed along behind him, grabbing two mugs from a rack by the door.

“I don’t understand why you want to leave it.” Zayn said, handing a mug to Louis. They watched it fill with the amber liquid for a moment before Zayn continued. “He’s a prick. You should have punched him in the face. I would have beaten him within an inch of his life if he had said that shit about me.”

“That’s rubbish.” Louis said, handing him the mug and filling the other for himself. “You might be all deep and mysterious, but you wouldn’t hurt a fly and you know it. Everyone does.”

“Alright, maybe not within an inch of his life. But I still would have hit him.”

By ten o’clock, Louis was completely bladdered. He’d had about three rum and cokes, four shots of vodka and maybe one beer before collapsing on the couch in a fit of giggles as Zayn made out with some girl on his left. He kept throwing peanuts from a dish into Zayn’s quiff and Zayn tried to swat his hand away, but Louis would just giggle and move away as quickly as he could.

It wasn’t long before Zayn got sick of him and let the girl who Louis vaguely recognized as Perrie drag him up the stairs to one of the empty bedrooms. So, alone, Louis was left to figure out how to keep himself occupied on his own. So he took out his phone, a pathetic un-smartphone like Harry’s, and he began to play tetris.

Then his mind flooded with curls and green and kind words, and he thought it would be a brilliant idea to text Harry. If he was honest, the boy was most likely asleep, and Louis clearly wasn’t going to remember anything in the morning, so he let the reigns of certain embarrassment take over and punched in the name and a “HZAHHZAAHH”. The keys blurring and his head hurting the more he tried to focus.

The reply was nearly instant.

 

From: Harry Styles

Lou? Are you alright?

 

To: Harry Styles

OF cOrsueeee slillly. HAHAHAHAHA

 

From: Harry Styles

Are you sure? You seem a bit off.

 

To: Harry Styles

U knO Hazhaahaeead. Yuoriee rthr preattyyyy.

 

To: Harry Styles

n yiouree eryes are sio green. like ps hahahahahaaaa peees hahahahaha grnn like peeeees

 

To: Harry Styles

n youiree hareee is lkeii curly. liek a dog. u KNo likk the mop dogs.

 

To: Harry Styles

nw yur ignorgninging meeeeeeee.

 

From: Harry Styles

I’m not ignoring you. I think you’re drunk, and you should get some sleep. That’s all. It would be good for you. And I’m rather tired. So, I think I’m going to sleep anyway.

 

To: Harry Styles

fnie. biiiiiiiiii

Louis shoved his phone into his pocket and settled down onto the couch after he sent the last two words. Even Harry didn’t want to keep him entertained. He must have been thinking that Louis was a burden or something. Or Louis was his charity case. Just when he thought he was going to be able to make a new friend who didn’t stick around because “it wouldn’t be right if I left you” like his one mate, Stan.

He didn’t have much time to entertain the thought that Harry didn’t want him, because shortly after it even began, he was blacked out, falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

 

From: Louis Tomlinson

cn we go 2 mine 2day instd? wn’t hv ne other time ths wk.

When the text flashed across his screen that morning, Harry was instantly awake and more confused then he had been in quite a while. Everything with Louis, at least in Harry’s mind, had been black and white since the day they met. He was either on his guard, or vulnerable. There was no in between. His house was off limits, his heart was off limits, everything that could give away too much was off limits. But lately, he was one giant grey area. The texts, even though he was drunk, inviting Harry to his house...

Harry wasn’t sure where this was going, but he wasn’t going to stop it. If this meant that he could become friends with Louis, earn his trust.. Then he was going to do everything in his power to keep this chain of events going. And today, he was going to get a look into Louis’ life that few others had.

 

To: Louis Tomlinson

Sure, that’s fine. I’m at locker 325. Meet me there after class and we’ll go.

 

From: Louis Tomlinson

Thank you.

 

Louis was standing at Harry’s locker by the time class got out, and he was standing there, fidgeting uncomfortably, blazer hooked over the strap of his satchel, sleeves pushed up around his elbows, showing off a heavily inked right forearm and his nearly empty left. He looked something like a model, standing that way, and Harry had to take an extra breath to calm himself down before approaching him.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked. Louis nodded, stuffing his beanie on. Harry had started to think of it as a security blanket for him or something like that, kind of like he had admitted his eyeliner to be. He didn’t mind. He was actually quite fond of Louis wearing it by now.

“Let’s.. Let’s go, yeah?” Louis said quietly. Hesitantly, he continued: “And.. I know you’re doing me a favor right now by coming to my house... But. Do you think, maybe. We could stop by the junior school?”

“I’m not taking part in a kidnapping, am I?” Harry joked as they walked out the doors.

“No, nothing like that.” Louis said. “Just a pick up. I wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t already on the way.. it’s just. Mum can’t pick up the girls.. Not today. S-she’s got to work.”

“Louis. It’s not a problem. I promise. I’m glad to do it.” Harry said, taking this clue into Louis’ life and filing it away for safekeeping. Every time he let him in, even just a tad, was a small victory for Harry. And it made his heart jump with hope. But it couldn’t happen. He couldn’t let himself fall, not like this. Maybe in another life. Another time.

“I’ll just go sign them out. when we get there... There’s two of them. I hope that’s alright, as well.”

Harry nodded, and the rest of the car ride to the Junior school was rather quiet. The CD that Louis had made him played softly in the background, and Harry could have sworn that he saw Louis’ mouth quirk up at the corners. It broadened when they reached the school and Louis jumped out of the car, headed for the doors. He disappeared for a moment, but he returned with two blonde haired girls who looked to be about eight. Twins. Lovely.

“Haz.” Louis said, helping them into the car. “These are my twin sisters, Phoebe and Daisy. My other sisters are at the middle school. They’re old enough to walk, so they’re probably home by now. But you’ll meet them.”

“You’re friends with LouLou?” Daisy or Phoebe asked. 

Harry nodded. “I’m also helping him with his studies on Wednesdays.”

“So that’s why he doesn’t come home right after school.” Phoebe or Daisy said. “Mummy was wondering why you weren’t telling her what was going on, Boobear.”

“Boobear?” Harry asked with a smirk. Louis’ face flushed scarlet and he turned away from Harry to stare out the window.

“That’s what mummy calls him!” Phoebe or Daisy said. “She calls him Boobear. But only sometimes. He gets mad now. I think she does it to annoy him.”

“Sometimes, he yells at mummy.” Daisy or Phoebe said. Harry saw Louis’ eyes widen in his reflection on the glass and he turned. “I don’t know why. Mummy is sad a lot, and when LouLou yells at her, she gets more sad. Sometimes she even cries.”

“Alright, girls. That’s enough, yeah?” Louis said, hushing the two girls up before Harry could question them further on the matter. But he just took that as something Louis would tell him someday. “Our house is the fifth on the right.” He added as Harry turned down their street. Harry nodded.

This definitely was nothing like the side of town he was used to, that was for sure. All of the houses were in a row, with barely any grass in the front. Most of them had chipped paint, and some of them had shutters falling from the windows. In the house across the street from Louis’ a dog laid out in the sunshine next to a rubbish bin, the bugs visible, even from across the path. It was quite a broken down, ramshackle place, but these were people’s homes. And just because they didn’t live like Harry, didn’t make them any less than he was. Even if that’s what his parents would think.

“Alright, lovely ladies.” Louis said with a smile. “Off you go to play with your sisters, yeah? I’ve got to do some studying. So try not to get into too many fights. But if they try to tie you to the tree again come get me straight away.”

“No promises, LouLou. But we’ll come and get you.” Daisy or Phoebe said with a smile, skipping off to the back garden, hand and hand with the other twin.

“Uh.. Care to see my room, then?” Louis said with a cough. Harry nodded, and followed Louis up the stairs. “It’s the second largest bedroom... Mum’s got the master. And the twins share. Lottie and Fliss share.. But I’ve got my own room. Being the man of the house has it’s advantages.”

“I’m sure.” Harry said with a smile as Harry opened a door with a black “L” painted on it.

“It’s a bit of a mess.” Louis said sheepishly, stepping through the door. He moved to the corner and stood there awkwardly, while Harry took a good look around.

His walls were a collage, and that’s the only way that Harry could think to describe it. Instead of wallpaper or paint, Louis had glued posters from all the artists he listened to on the walls, had them so close there was no space, no blank stretch of wall to be seen. There was a desk pushed into the corner, overflowing with stacks of CD’s, and a closet stood open with clothes of all colors spilling out, not just black. Most had stripes or were quite lovely, and Harry took a moment to wonder what stopped him from wearing them. And from that thought, he wondered what he would look like in them. All tattooed and eyeliner free. He supposed Louis would still wear the beanie, though. And he couldn’t quite picture it, or know if it would be a positive or a negative on his appearance. A whiteboard hung on the wall next to the door on the left, and a chest of drawers stood to the right. On his nightstand, next to a lamp, there was a single picture of his sisters in a white wooden frame. It was the only photograph in the room, and Harry had a feeling he took it himself.

Other than that, it was the typical room of a teenaged boy. Clothes scattered the floor, and cologne bottles and other odds and ends littered the top of the dresser. His bed was unmade and the pillows in odd places, the blankets tangled. But it was so unmistakably Louis, that Harry had no problem with it.

“We can work on my bed... or on the floor. Whichever you prefer.” Louis said after a moment. Harry nodded. “I think I’ll sit on the floor, yeah?”

It was funny, how at the beginning of the afternoon, Harry was completely caught off guard by Louis asking him over, and by the end, Harry was leaning back against Louis’ knees while his fingers carded through Harry’s curls. He had merely mentioned the fact that the debate coming up was beginning to take it’s toll, and suddenly Louis’ hand was in his hair, running through his curls. Harry had let his head fall back at that, against Louis’ knees as his eyes closed. And it was so easy, so, so very easy. It was easy to just fall back and be with Louis, even if they were silent for a majority of the time. Harry wondered if that was better, even. That they were at the stage that they could be comfortable with each other, even in complete silence. Even if they hadn’t talked all that much and barely knew each other. He liked that he could be relaxed. Liked how nice it felt to have someone else outside of the debate team besides Liam. It was just. All of it was so nice.

He left at around eight that evening, and made the short drive home with How to Save a Life by the Fray blaring through his speakers. The Gatekeeper was still at his post by the time he got back, so he was able to pull up the drive without a problem, and when he got inside, his mum was at the table in the kitchen, having a cuppa and reading a newspaper from that morning.

“Hello, darling.” She said with a smile as Harry stepped into the rather large, sterile kitchen. “You’re home late tonight. Usually you’re in by six on school nights.”

He pulled open their refrigerator, looking for a bite of something to eat from the night’s dinner, and sighed. “I.. I was at a mate’s. I hope that’s alright.”

“Do I know this friend?” His mother said, raising an eyebrow but smiling as she sipped her tea.

“No. He’s a quite recent addition.” Harry said, taking a plate of chicken out and beginning to pick at it with his fingers. “I like him quite a lot, actually. I have for quite some time. As more than a friend.. But for now that’ll have to do.”

“Well then, when is he coming over?” she asked. “Invite him for tea, I’m sure he’s lovely. I’d like to meet this boy who has your affections.”

“Mum..” Harry said, shaking his head with embarrassment. But, when he thought about it. Now was the time to ask her a question that had been in his mind since he met Louis. “He.. He’s from the other side of town. You know. The poorer side.. His name is Louis. And, uhm. If.. If I brought him home. Would that be a bad thing? I mean that he isn’t rich like us. And he’s sort of, a bit. Rough around the edges, I guess?”

“As long as he’s good to you, I’m sure we’ll manage.” his mother said with a smile, folding up her newspaper carefully. “Now. If you don’t mind, love. I’m completely knackered. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know. Have a good night.”

 

Their friendship seemed to go from week to week after that, ever changing and ever growing. And Louis liked it quite a lot. He and Harry would go straight to his after school on Wednesdays that his mother had to work, and if needed, they would stop at the junior school to get the twins. They were easily falling into the status of best mates, and it was so natural, that Louis couldn’t help but think that their friendship was meant to be.

Even if all he wanted to do every time he saw the younger boy was rip his clothes off. Recently, it had been harder to keep himself under control, especially when they had been frequenting his back garden, and Harry had let the twins put flowers in his hair. It was so sickeningly adorable that all Louis wanted to do was kiss the boy senseless, then lead him up the stairs and fuck him into the mattress. But he couldn’t just do that, no matter how badly he wanted to. There were so many things that he was going to let keep them apart, and so many things out of his control that would be bound to keep them out of each other’s arms. It was the cold, hard truth. No matter how much he wished it to be otherwise.

It was the fourteenth week of term when Louis met Harry at his locker after classes, and Harry said they were going on a different sort of “adventure” that day. Louis had confirmed earlier that morning that his mother was going to be home, so Harry said that he would think of something before they parted ways to go to their separate classes. They had a different schedule on Wednesdays, so the only time they saw each other was after school. But they usually met up in the mornings briefly, and Louis had taken to texting Harry while he was on his morning commute. Even though Harry was driving, he liked imagining the look on the younger boy’s face when he saw his phone light up with Louis’ name. He would either laugh or roll his eyes, Louis was sure. But it was never frustration that crossed through those pretty green eyes. At least, he liked to hope it never was. But. People had been looking at them oddly, and he knew that the debate team wasn’t letting Harry live the fact that he was hanging out with Louis down. Sometimes he would see Harry in the halls in an argument with the posh one, Niall. The one who had gotten the bullied after Louis in the first place. It always looked heated, and Louis knew that it was his fault. But if he asked Harry about it, the younger lad would smile and say that it was nothing to worry about. Even though it was.

Everything was something to worry about when it came to Harry. Everything. Especially since he was falling a little more in love with him as each day passed. When he said he was falling in love with him, he meant he was falling in love with everything. The way he was slightly pigeon toed, and the way that caused him to trip over his feet sometimes. The way he would flip his hair out of his eyes and then shake it out with his fingers. How his green eyes seemed to sparkle when the easy banter flowed back and forth between them. How his dimples would show when he was smiling, and when he was trying so hard not to smile that it wasn’t working. The way his blazer fit him just right in all the right places, the way his hands were long and lanky. When he would bite the eraser on his pencil, the line of concentration between his eyebrows. How he would mutter to himself as he worked through a maths problem. How, even if he was done with his work, he would still choose to sit and read a book rather than leave Louis alone.. There were just so many things to love about the boy that they couldn’t possibly all fit into a notebook, or a dictionary, or an entire encyclopedia set.

And it hurt that Louis was too fucking scared to say anything. Because he would see Harry with other boys in the hall and a shot of jealousy would run through him. He would see him flirting with Nick Fucking Grimshaw (the name was given to him by Zayn) and want to walk over and say “mine” so fiercely that he would back off without a moment’s hesitation. He wanted, wanted, wanted what he couldn’t have, have, have. Unless he got the balls to say anything. And he was really considering making today that day. Since he was such shit at hiding things from Harry that there wasn’t really a point. He was even more shit at hiding things from Harry than he was at hiding things from Zayn. And he had known Zayn all of his life. It was easier for him to set up a wall around Zayn because he knew how far Zayn would push until he decided that whatever was troubling Louis wasn’t worth pressuring him to speak about. But with Harry. He was all green eyes and coaxing words and backing off if Louis didn’t want to say anything. And that just made him want to say something so one way or another, Harry always knew what was going on in his head. Always.

“Louis.” Harry said, snapping his fingers in front of Louis’ face when they stopped at a red light. “Come back to me, mate.”

Louis shook his head and glanced over at the driver’s side. “Sorry. Just.. Thinking. You know.”

“I thought I saw the smoke coming out your ears.” Harry said with an easy smile. “What were you thinking about? Thought you were in a different universe with that one.”

“Just. Stuff.” Louis said with a shrug. He would tell him. He would. Just as soon as they got to Harry’s and he had a few minutes to think about how to say what he wanted to say. He promised himself that much.

“Cryptic.” Harry said with a nod of approval. “You know, Louis. Sometimes I wish I could be inside your head. Just to know what’s going on in.”

If he only knew how much he was actually there.

“You might think me a right stalker, mate.” Louis said with half a smile.

“Always on your mind then, am I?”

He was smiling easily now, and Louis hated him for it. The fact that he probably only thought them friends was starting to hurt. And that sent him into an entirely new chain of thoughts about how he didn’t want to mess their friendship when he told him. But no. He had to do this. He had to.

“Louis? I’ve lost you again.”

“S-sorry.” Louis said, swallowing hard as they pulled up the drive and into the garage of what was probably the biggest house Louis had ever seen in his entire life.

It was everything a stereotypical mansion was, really. Everything that you could picture an estate to be. Ivy growing up the front, a fountain in a stone circle right by the front door. The bushes were perfectly trimmed and the lawn manicured so well he was sure all blades of grass were even with each other. It was a tan stone house, with a white roof and a chimney and so many windows he couldn’t possibly count them all. He probably wouldn’t even be able to remember where all of the rooms were, but he would like to try. He let out a low whistle when they pulled to a stop in the garage. It was a four car (FOUR CAR!) garage, though only two were present. And Harry’s Range Rover was definitely the least expensive out of the two already in the garage. One was a red Ferrari, and the other was a silver Porsche.

“I thought you said no one was home?” Louis said, nervously. Harry turned his head to look at him as the door closed behind them.

“They’re not.” Harry said. “Gem’s at uni, and mum and Robin took the Jag to Bradford until Sunday. So I’m home alone until then. Well. I’m not really home alone, I guess. We have a live-in maid who cleans every day. But she doesn’t really speak to me all that much. She’s fond of me, though, makes sure I don’t get into too much trouble. She’s sort of old fashioned. Believes that maids shouldn’t be seen or heard.”

“Must be scary, living in a house this big alone.” Louis said, getting his bag and stepping out of the car.

Harry shrugged. “I’ve gotten a bit used to it. Besides, when they’re gone, I usually just stay up in my room and only really come down when I need something to eat. The cat, Dusty, keeps me company. Only leaves when she needs to go to the litter box.”

“You should put a box for her in your room, then.”

“Too smelly.” he replied, crinkling his nose in this adorable way that made Louis head spin like a teenage girl.

Harry led him through the doorway in the garage, and across the front path, punching in a four digit code to the door. When he stepped inside, he kicked his shoes off, and lined them up on a mat, taking care to make sure they were even with the others. Louis fought to hold in a laugh, and Harry looked up at him, sheepish, with a small smile on his face and his curls falling into his eyes.

“Mum’s a bit anal about keeping the house neat.” He explained as Louis pulled his own shoes off before following Harry down a hallway and into a kitchen so white it almost hurt his eyes. “Fancy a cuppa?”

“Yorkshire, straight.” Louis said, running his hand over the black marble of the counter. It was the only thing breaking up the black. “If you’ve got it. And this isn’t a house, Haz. This is a fucking castle.”

“I wouldn’t call it a castle.”

“Compared to where I live, any house is a castle.”

“Yeah, but. Your house is cozy. This one feels immaculate. I dunno. It’s home and everything, but it doesn’t feel like one. You know?”

Louis nodded and leaned against the counter, watching as Harry moved around to put a kettle on. He needed to say it now, or he was never going to.

“Harry.. I.. I need to say something to you, yeah?” Louis asked as Harry set their tea mugs on the marble counter in his kitchen. The kettle wasn’t close to boiling, but Louis liked to put his teabag in the mug first. Harry nodded, and Louis took a deep breath before he continued, toying with the hem of his shirt to keep his hands from shaking.

“I like you.” he said, trying to make sure his voice didn’t shake. “Quite a lot. Like. In a not-as-a-mate way. It’s too quick to say that I love you because we aren’t even together. But I would really like to be. I mean, if you would like to have me. We don’t have to tell anyone or anything. I know that being with someone on the wrong side of the tracks isn’t ideal. Especially someone like you. But.. If you want to, that is. I.. Well. I’d be willing to take the chance. I-if you’ll have me? But. If not. I.. We can be mates, still. Really. My feelings won’t get in the way of us being mates. I come with baggage... I mean. At least I think it is. But.. I’m willing to try to let you in. It won’t be easy.. But. I.. I think it’s worth it? I mean. I’m willing to hope it is...”

Harry had braced himself against the counter with his hands, and was looking down at the marble. Louis didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but if he had to guess. He would have guessed it was a bad thing. He was opening his mouth to take back everything that he had said, and offer to go when Harry began to speak.

“It is worth it.” Harry said quietly. “And, if you want to try. Then I do too. I mean. I’ve had a crush on you since year nine. I saw you walk out of a class and I just. I thought you were quite fit, really. So I’ve been watching from a distance. That’s part of the reason I stayed back that day I offered to help you.”

Louis laughed then, and his laugh faded into a smile that just wouldn’t leave. “You dumped all those pencils on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Only because I wanted to eavesdrop!” Harry protested, folding his arms across his chest. “And really, can you blame me? You’re fucking adorable when you’re freaking out, and it was worth it in the end, wasn’t it? I’ve got you now.”

“I don’t know anymore.” Louis said with a snort. “Dumping pencils just to get with a man? Bit creepy, yeah?”

“Instead of arguing, can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never fucking ask.”

Harry’s hands were soft on his waist as he pulled Louis’ close, against his chest. And finally, oh, finally Louis could let his hands snake up and around Harry’s neck and into his hair as their lips pressed together.

The kettle whistled in the background somewhere, but neither of them noticed. Louis was too busy letting Harry press him against the counter as his fingertips moved up and down his sides to care.

 

The next Friday, Harry was awoken from a nice afternoon nap by the sound of his text tone going off on his bedside table. He supposed that it was Louis, texting him some weird fact or something silly that he had seen on the internet, and was almost disappointed when he saw Liam’s name instead. But, he had no reason to be disappointed. He hadn’t really spent much time with Liam, other than their morning commutes. And he hadn’t been telling him much, either. He had wanted to keep Louis to himself for as long as he possibly could. But today. Today felt different. Today felt like a day he wanted to let his best friend in on his little secret relationship. See what he had to say.

 

From: Liammm

I’m cumming ovr tonighttttt b redy for filmssss

 

To: Liammm

Bring Love, Actually or I’ll kill you, Payne.

 

Liam got to his house at eight that evening with a duffle bag full of movies, sweets, crisps, and a change of clothes. It was to be a “proper boys night” Liam said, and Harry laughed as he navigated them both to the family room. There was no need, though. Liam knew the house as well as Harry, and was just as comfortable finding his way around as the entire family.

He plopped down onto the tan leather couch as Liam stuffed a DVD into the player, and split open a bag of crisps, diving into them almost immediately. He hadn’t eaten that way in so long, it felt good to eat so unhealthily. Especially around Liam who, was not only on the debate team, but on the football team, and in the spring term he was also on the track team. Despite being born with more medical problems than even the sickest old man, he kept carrying forward and moving past obstacles, and Harry admired him for that.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Liam said, stuffing a biscuit into his mouth as he plopped down on the couch. “Just in the mornings.”

“I know.” Harry said. “I’ve been neglecting you. I haven’t meant to, really. I’m just so busy lately. It’s like the time is gone before it even happens.”

“But you’ve got plenty of time to spend with Louis Tomlinson.” Liam said. Harry didn’t even have enough time to look at him like he had two heads before Liam was cutting him off with an eye roll. “It’s not like I haven’t seen the two of you, Harry. He pines for you like a sick puppy.”

“That’s not true.” Harry spluttered, suddenly thinking that telling Liam he and Louis were actually together probably wasn’t such a good idea. “I.. I’ve been helping him study. He needs the time, Liam. He doesn’t have a good home life. He’s a good guy. I promise. I would have dumped him off by now if he wasn’t.”

“Oh, he’s a good guy?” Liam said skeptically. Harry nodded enthusiastically, begging Liam with his eyes to understand. “If he’s such a good guy then why is he climbing over your wall with Zayn Malik right now?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry said, tilting his head to the side as Liam gestured to the window behind him.

Harry turned slowly, only to see Louis standing there waving, with a bright smile on his face as Zayn fell off the wall and into a rose bush a few metres away and sprung up, shouting in a whisper and covered in scratches. Louis let out a bark of laughter, and normally Harry would have wanted to make sure he was alright. But at that moment in time, Harry was struck by how abso-bloody-fucking-lutely attractive his boyfriend was.

He truly looked like a punk rocker and Harry just wanted to jump him right then and there. His hair was fringed and stuffed under that stupid red beanie, but the scruff along his jawline and upper lip made him look absolutely sinful. And when Harry realized that Louis was wearing a tank top with the print of some band Harry had never heard of, he threw the window open just so he could run his hands down the range of black ink that spanned Louis’ arms, contrasting with the tan in the most beautiful of ways. It also showed off a chest tattoo, or several, that Harry had never even known Louis had, and he reached out with his fingertips so he could trace over those too. Louis just smiled lazily, and poked a finger into one of his dimples gently.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked with a broad grin as Louis pulled his torso through the window slightly, only to press a chaste kiss to his lips before he caught sight of Liam sitting on the couch, his arms folded across his chest.

“Oh.” Louis said. “You have company..."

“It’s just Liam, babe.” Harry said with a shrug, looking over his shoulder. He recognized the look on Liam’s face. It was that of an angry or disappointed mum. “Liam, this is Louis. By the way.”

“I know who he is.” Liam said, his tone icy. “He’s interrupting our night of films. He should leave.”

The easy smile that was on Louis’ face when he got there dropped from his face and he recoiled. Harry instantly knew that the words had hit a nerve, and he took both of Louis’ hands in his and smiled.

“He can stay if he wants.” Harry said. “Do you want me to let you in the front, or?”

“We uh.” Louis said, glancing hesitantly over Harry’s shoulder at Liam, who still had ‘disapproving dad’ written all over his features, causing Louis to go sheepish. “We. Like. There’s a party. At our friend Ed’s. Me and Zayn’s friend Ed’s. And well. I wanted to, like. See if, like. You wanted to come? You don’t have to. I didn’t realize that you were going to have Liam over when I planned this. I just wanted to be funny.”

Liam started to say “Yeah, actually he’s busy.” Just as Harry said “I’d love to go! We’ll both come, right Li?”

Harry had never seen Liam’s eyes so wide before in his entire life, and he had to hold back a bark of laughter.

“I’ll come let you in the front.” Harry said, turning back to Louis. “I’ve got to change out of my trackies and into proper trousers, then we can go. Meet me at the door.”

Louis’ grinned, and pressed his lips to Harry’s one more time before Harry pulled the window closed and turned around. Liam was gaping at him, his mouth opening and closing much like a fish. This time, Harry laughed freely and darted through a few different doors and hallways until he reached the front of the house.

“He’s not a good influence, Harry!” Liam protested in a stage whisper.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my boyfriend like that, thanks.” Harry said, pulling the door open and allowing Louis and Zayn to tumble inside the foyer. Zayn was the first one through the door, and he held out his hand. Harry took it as Louis came up to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist, stuffing his hand into Harry’s back pocket. He had never seen Louis this affectionate before, and if he was honest.. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

“I’m Zayn.” He said with a shy smile, glancing over at Liam before instantly looking back at Harry. “It’s nice to meet you. Louis won’t shut up about you.”

Louis reached out and shoved Zayn’s shoulder, hiding his face in Harry’s neck to cover a smile. Harry just grinned.

“All good things, I hope.”

“If I have to hear him say “I bet he has a really pretty cock” one more time, I might explode. But other than that, all he has to offer are good things, so I thought it was time to play meet the family.”

Harry smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Louis, want to come up to my room with me for a mo’? won’t be too long.”

“Harry I don’t think--” Liam began, but Harry cut across him.

“Li. Stay here with Zayn, get him something to drink even. Show a bit of hospitality, alright, dad?”

Liam grumbled something that sounded like “I’ll make sure he doesn’t steal anything” before heading into the kitchen. Zayn followed behind him like a puppy, and Harry couldn’t help but wink at Liam as he cast a backwards glance over his shoulder to where Louis and Harry stood at the door.

“I think he likes me?” Louis tried hopefully, before breaking out into a fit of laughter. Harry rolled his eyes fondly, and tugged him to the right, leading him up the grand staircase to his room. The last time they had been there, they had left Harry’s blankets a mess and Louis had went home with his neck peppered by bruises.

“He’s just a bit protective of me.. He’s been my best mate since we were babies, so. I think I would be the same if he found anyone he was interested in. But, I think he’s only got the hots for Zayn at the moment. I’ve got nothing bad to say about him, judging by what you’ve told me. So. We’ll see how this works out. He’s a bit of a straight shooter, Liam is.”

“He’s seriously hot for Zayn?” Louis asked, his eyes widening. Harry nodded. “Good. Because Zayn’s been in love with him since they sat next to each other in an art seminar in your year nine, me and his year ten.”

“I guess that’s when all of us found what we wanted, then.” Harry said, shrugging out of his trackies and pulling a pair of black jeans out of his closet. “That was the first time I saw you, and I wanted you ever since.”

The party was in full swing when Louis pushed through the door. A ginger kid rushed to him, pulling his hand out of Harry’s grip as he tugs Louis into a hug. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and it was half gone, so Harry knew he was pretty far in.

“Louiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!” the kid said. Louis grinned.

“Hey, Ed! What’s up mate, you alright?” Louis said as Zayn slipped in next to him and Liam hid behind Harry.

“This party is siiiiiiiiiiiiiick, mate.” Ed replies, swinging the bottle around with a grin. “Come in! Get a beer! I’ve got my guitar!”

“How are the people here?” Zayn piped in from the back.

“The usual crowd, mate! Some posh ones figured it out but not too many! Come onnnnn! Party, party, party!”

“Your hospitality is astounding.” Louis said, dryly before stepping farther into the house. Harry kept a gentle grip on his hand as they weaved through the people and into the kitchen. “What do you want to drink, babe?”

“Vodka and orange?” Harry said, sheepishly. He wasn’t much of a drinker, or a partier. But when he did, he did it right.

“We might make a bad boy out of you, yet, Styles.” Louis said with a smirk and a wink, grabbing the things he would need and mixing them in a red solo cup while Harry watched him. As he turned back to put the orange juice back in the fridge, Harry caught his arm and pulled him into a gentle kiss, smiling against his lips.

“Sorry. I just like to be able to kiss you whenever.” Harry said with a smile, then he leaned down to Louis’ ear. “Don’t get too drunk. I want to take you home and ravish you.”

When Harry wakes up in his bed the next morning, he’s naked and his chest is covered with bruises, two are specifically placed, one under each collarbone. And Louis is sleeping soundly next to him, face buried in the crook of Harry’s neck. The party comes back in flashes, starting with Liam and Zayn in a heated kiss on Ed’s couch, and ending with a brief shock of pain in his bum as Louis rocked into him. Then it was a swirl of moans and pleasure and sticky bodies coming together and then parting before stuttering through a climax and falling asleep, pressed up close together, their breathing the only sound in the room.

 

Louis decided to audition for the musical two hours before the time slot he signed up for. He had nothing prepared, no song, no monologue, no nothing. But he figured that he would just be able to wing it and see what happened. As he signed up, he found out from the director that he only had to read a page of script for the character that he was auditioning for, and that he could sing any song he wanted. Which was an immediate plus because that meant he could sing one of the songs from Grease and get away with it.

So all there was left for him to do was wait.

Auditions were held during the day, during all of the free periods. Since each student auditioning had a different schedule, that made it easier than holding the auditions after school. If needed, the callbacks would be the next day, and the cast list would be posted by Friday. And Louis didn’t think he had ever been more nervous than he had when he walked into that room and stood in front of the three directors. He felt more exposed than ever, even when he was naked with Harry’s eyes roaming over his body, marking and cataloguing tattoos.

“Hi.” He said quietly. “I’m Louis Tomlinson. Year thirteen.”

“Hello, Louis.” The female of the three said. He recognized her as the choir teacher, but only vaguely. He didn’t know her name or anything, but at least there were two familiar faces in the room. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. “What are you auditioning for, today?”

“Peter.” He said, simply. “And I know that you’d prefer me to have a song from the show prepared. But. I don’t really know anything other than the Disney movie. So. I thought I would sing you a song from the stage version of Grease, if that’s alright? It’s like, my all time favorite musical. I know all the songs back to front. And I only decided to audition two hours ago, so this is mostly on the fly.”

“What song from Grease will you sing?” His drama teacher asked. He smiled at Louis confidently and Louis took a deep breath.

“All Alone at a Drive-In Movie.” he said. The three directors nodded almost simultaneously and Louis smiled, letting the beats play in his head before he started to sing.

“I’m all alone... At the drive in movie...”

He left the room after reading a scene with the choir director. It was a little bit difficult to think of her as Wendy, but if he closed his eyes and pictured reading the lines with Harry, it wasn’t all that hard. So he left with a bit of confidence in his stride, even though he was sure that the best he would do would be to get the part of one of the Lost Boys or something. But, even though he was sure there was still a little voice in the back of his head saying “you look like Peter. Maybe you’ll be the one they pick.” He shook it away quickly, though. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for something that was surely not going to happen.

He hadn’t even told Harry he was planning to audition. He hadn’t told anyone, he was so sure it wasn’t going to play out the way he wanted. Plus, he didn’t want to have his mum worrying about what she was going to do with the girls while he was at rehearsals every day after school. He would cross that bridge himself, if and when he got the part.

He met up with the lads for lunch, and it was all smiles and jokes as usual. It was nice out, so the four of them (being Louis, Liam, Harry and Zayn) all sat outside so Zayn could have a smoke and Liam could watch disapprovingly as he usually did. Ever since the party he and Zayn had been taking the effort to get to know each other and maybe become friends before thinking about doing anything serious. Zayn was hesitant, though. He had told Louis that there wasn’t a point because he was leaving at the end of the year for university, and Liam still had one more year of sixth form to go before anything could possibly happen. Louis didn’t have to worry about that, though. He was going to be here instead of university. So he and Harry had one more year to figure shit out. If they lasted that long.

He and Harry were leaning against the fence (more like Harry was leaning on the fence and he was leaning against Harry’s chest) when Niall Horan approached them. Louis noticed Harry’s smile brighten, and then darken all at once, while little happy-go-lucky Liam waved at him cheerfully.

“Need somewhere to sit, mate?” He asked, still smiling. Niall nodded, not meeting anyone else’s eyes. “Well come on then! Sit over here by me! We were just chatting about Man U.”

More like Liam had been talking, Louis had been dozing, Harry had been reading, and Zayn had been so focused on taking drags of his cigarette he doubted he’d heard a word.

“Did you see their game against Liverpool?” Niall asked the group. Zayn ignored him. Harry nodded dismissively and Liam got so excited Louis thought he might pee himself. And while that was something to see, Louis had a different idea.

“I was too busy being a ‘fairy’.” Louis said coldly. “That’s what you called me, right? A fairy?”

“Louis.” Harry warned.

"Tell me, dearest Niall." Louis said. Zayn's eyes moved between the two of them quickly, as if this were a soap opera and he didn't want to miss a single detail. "Why does me liking theatre make me a "cocksucking fairy"?"

"Well. Theatre is quite.. Girly, innit?" Niall said absently. "Not a lot of lads do it. Not a lot of straight lads do, anyways. And you're gay.. So."

"That makes you sound like an ignorant asshole." Louis said. "Hugh Jackman is straight. He does theatre. Daniel Craig is straight, he's done theatre. Seventy five percent of the men in Harry Potter are straight and they all did theatre at one point or another. If I had to put money on it, I'm willing to bet there are as many straight men that do theatre as gay ones."

"Hugh Jackman did theatre?" Niall asked, his eyes widening. Louis nodded. "That's sick!"

"Not so much of a fairy anymore, am I?"

"No. Just a bit of a pixie." Niall said, taking a bite of his sandwich. And just like that, the tension was broken (because even though he wouldn’t admit it, Louis knew he looked a bit like a pixie and the other three boys did too)  and by the end of lunch the Irish lad had them all in stitches with the stories he told. Louis was immediately at ease, and he didn’t think it could get any better than where he was at that moment.

“I’m glad you’re seeing the light, Nialler.” Liam said. Harry smiled, and tightened his arm around Louis just slightly.

“I am too.” Louis said, quietly. “Since I just auditioned for the part of Peter less than an hour ago. I’d hate to think you would all find me a fairy.”

Harry dropped the book he was holding in his hand and Louis jackknifed when it hit him in the crotch.

“Watch the goods!” he said, his voice choked, rolling out of Harry’s lap and curling onto his side in the grass. “I need those!”

“You auditioned?” Harry asked, completely oblivious to the pain Louis was in. Louis looked up at him, only to see a soft smile and big green eyes. Louis grinned, and nodded as he sat up a bit.

Harry tackled him back to the ground and peppered his face with kisses, while the others threw catcalls their way. And Louis couldn’t think of anything closer to perfect.

Until Friday when the cast list went up, and he saw his name written in bold black letters next to Peter Pan, and nearly fainted. It was a good thing that Harry had been standing there, or else he would have broken his head on the tiled floor and then there wouldn’t be anything for him to break his fall to certain death with. Harry kissed him with a broad grin in his face, and whispered how proud he was of him while all the others shot him dirty looks.

 

Harry had a debate that week, so their study serious were brought to a halt. It didn't stop them from sneaking to Harry's, or going to Louis' after school, but it turned the focus from Louis' studying to Harry practicing and studying for the debate. Those were always the hardest things for him to prepare for, only because he could only study on the topics being discussed. He didn't know the exact way a question would be framed, the exact wording of his opponent's rebuttal, or how fueled by anger he was going to be. But even when he was angry, he had to rely on fact not his own opinions. No matter how strongly he felt about a topic.

Plus the holidays and Louis' birthday were coming up, and Harry had so much shopping to do it was making his head spin. He didn't know what he was going to get anyone, not even Liam. So he and Gemma were going to have to go shopping when she returned. She was the only one he didn't have to worry about shopping for because he already got her a cashmere sweater she had been eyeing for months. But his mum, Robin and the lads. Well. Challenge accepted.

It was Thursday, and the debate was Friday, but all he wanted was to have a break. And that's how he found himself driving to Tom's tattoo shop on the other side of town. It was quite near to where Louis lived, actually. But he had texted Tom, who always had Lux in the shop on Thursday's, and told him he would be there at the usual time to pick her up.

When he walked through the door, her eyes immediately lit up and she squealed from the place in her playpen. He smiled big and covered his face with his hands.

"Where's my little Luxy girl?!" he called through the shop. "I just can't seem to find her!"

She squealed again, and he smiled under his hands. If there was any girl who had his heart, it was definitely that little blonde staring at him through the mesh. He had been there the day she was born, Lou and Tom had been lifelong friends of his family, and he often called Lou his best girl. No matter what Tom would say. He would take a bullet for any of them, no questions asked.

"Hssa!" she shouted. His grin broadened. "Hssa, Hssa, Hssa!"

He uncovered his face and moved through the shop, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around.

"What were you hiding for, Luxy?! I missed you!" he said as she giggled, hiding her face in his neck.

A door opened to Harry's left and Lux turned her head, a smile crossing her face.

"Ooeee!" she said excitedly. Harry furrowed his brows, and turned his head, only to see his boyfriend standing there with a broom in his hand.

"Gone five five minutes and you're winning all the attractive lads, little miss." Louis said with a smile. "Whatever will we do with you."

"Ooeee! Hssa!" Lux said, patting Harry's head twice fondly. "Hssa! Ooeee!" she added, reaching her hand out to Louis.

"He and I have met, love." Harry said with a smile, pulling Louis into a hug and pressing a kiss to his lips. He pulled back after a minute and Lux was staring at them with wide eyes. "He's my boyfriend, darling."

"Well isn't this a cute family?" the voice of Tom said teasingly, from the door that Louis had just come out of. "Hold on! Need a shot for the wall!"

Harry groaned and Louis hid a smile in Harry's chest as Tom snapped a picture of the three and went to the laptop sitting at the desk in the front of the shop.

"Don't forget, Tommo. I'm not paying you to fuck around with my mates." he said with a wink. "Even though I'm sure that's more or less what you two get up to on your spare time."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Louis said with a wink. Harry didn't even know that Tom knew he was seeing anyone. Let alone the fact that he knew Louis. "Not that it matters. Curly never seems to have time for little old me anymore."

"Thats not only my fault, twinkle toes." Harry said with a smirk. "You're arse deep in drama rehearsals!"

"Take your lovers spat somewhere else you two!" Tom said, still smirking. "And, Haz. Don't kill my daughter on your way home."

"Thought I might do some shopping, actually." Harry said. "You know. With the holidays and all that."

"No shit, that's what Louis' doing too!"

"He pays me to do random shit around the hols." Louis offered as an explanation. "Gotta get my sisters gifts, don't I? And this year I've got a couple new friends and a boyfriend to get gifts for too."

"You don't have to get me anything." Harry said quickly.

“I do.” Louis said. “I’ve got to find something to top that bloody fucking alarm clock I got you for Secret Snowflake last year.”

“You were my Snowflake?” Harry said, his eyes widening. That very second, he decided he would never think awful thoughts about the clock again. “Because I was yours.”

“You were?”

“That is fate at it’s best, that is.” Tom said, putting in his two pence as he always did. Harry rolled his eyes and Louis shook his head.

"Hssa! Presents!" Lux said, hitting his shoulder. "MmDonalds!"

"You're taking my two year old to McDonald's." Tom said, more of a statement then a fact.

"I cut everything up for her." Harry said in defense. “And I know how to do the heimlich. She’s safe with me.”

"Don't tell Lou." he said with a sigh and a smile. "Have fun."

"Bye bye! Bye bye!" Lux said with a big smile. Tom pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Louis kissed Harry softly. With a promise to text him later, he and Lux were off.

 

"What do you think Louis would like, love?" he said, carrying her around the local shopping centre. She knit her brows together as if she was actually concentrating, and Harry smiled. "Let's try a music shop first. See what they've got."

They made their way to Spin It, a record store where Harry's friend, Nick, worked part time,and he put Lux down so she could walk for a moment. She was good, never left his side, so he trusted her to not wander, even if he didn't hold her hand.

He saw the album as he straightened up. It was a vinyl of Fun.'s Some Nights. And it was signed. Harry knew that the album held special meaning to Louis, he even had Carry On tattooed to his arm. For him to have a signed album of theirs.. Harry just knew that it would mean the world to him. So, he went over to the case it was in, Lux in tow, and had one of the workers retrieve it for him. He handed the girl his credit card without a second thought, and scooped Lux up onto his shoulders while she giggled, her eyes lighting up with a squeal when she saw the album.

 

This wasn't a place Louis belonged. He knew that the second he stepped through the door to the large classroom, and saw all of the posh, smart people there. He wasn't smart, and he probably wasn't going to be able to keep track of the debate to save his life. But he needed to be here. He needed to be here to support Harry. His beautiful Harry who had been so stressed and nervous for the past week with no reason to be. The Harry that had asked him to be there, told him that it would make him feel better, less anxious. The Harry who was currently sat at a table with Niall, Liam and a few others that Louis didn't recognize. The Harry who was biting at his thumbnail as his eyes searched the room almost frantically, until settling on Louis who sent a small smile towards the boy.

Harry visibly relaxed seeing him there, and Liam and Niall both noticed the change. Louis just waved to both of them, and then the moderator introduced both teams and the judges before taking her seat and posing the first question. Louis knew that Harry would be the first to debate, he was the captain, after all.

But what he didn't expect was the passion that flew from Harry's mouth as he listened and rebutted the points of his opponent. Louis didn't know if it was just because he was passionate about the topic at hand, or if he just loved to debate, but as he played with his lip ring he decided that maybe it was a little bit of both. And Harry was good at it. It wasn't like those debates on the telly where both parties are usually shit and just saying what the people want to hear. He actually knew what he was talking about and could back it up with statistic and fact and science, if needed. He never let his passion out weigh his sense, but he never backed down. Always caused the opponent to falter first. And Louis could see, for perhaps the first time, the Harry that knew Louis wasn't a lost cause. The Harry that knew it was worth it to chase after him.

“That point goes to Hall Cross!” the moderator said, pressing a button so the scoreboard changed from 0-0 to 0-1. Louis wanted to jump up and cheer, but he didn’t think that would be acceptable, so he just sent Harry a thumbs up from where he was sitting. Harry didn’t just beam in his direction. He absolutely glowed.

Liam was the next one up, and while he knew what he was talking about, he wasn’t as eloquent with words as Harry was. But he debated with intensity, which was the exact opposite of what Louis was used to seeing. He was used to kind, sweet Liam, who never rubbed anyone the wrong way. But this Liam seemed to know every button to push that would make his opponent lose his temper and lose sight of the actual point. So even if he wasn’t as good at words, Liam had a skill that was unmatched by anyone. And that’s how the scoreboard went from 0-1 to 0-2.

The third person to go was someone that Louis had never seen before and was so awful at debating, he wondered how he had even been on the team. Alright. He wasn’t awful, but he was nervous. He didn’t have the cool confidence that Harry did, didn’t know how to push all the right buttons like Liam.. And that was how they lost a point to Ridgewood. When it came down to it, he was up against an opponent who mirrored Harry in many ways.

Niall finished out the round with a strong argument for universal equality, bringing them to a two point lead over the other team. The questions this time were surely to be harder, and the topics they were touching on were really heavy. He was sure that the questions were only going to get harder, but he was actually interested in what was being said. It was intriguing, honestly. So, he slid a bit forward in his chair and took a sip of the water he had brought with him. If only he could do this. Or something like it. Something that would make Harry proud.

After an impassioned argument for equal opportunity employment (which included the remarks “I’m gay. But I think I’ve more than proved that it has no effect on my character, my work ethic, or my intelligence” and “my boyfriend is tattooed. But that also has nothing to do with his work ethic, character or intelligence” that was met with a “well, some people don’t want people with tattoos to work for their company because they’re of a higher caliber than others. Tattoos look unprofessional.”. To which Harry responded with “I see your point but if they’re covered it shouldn’t matter if they have them or not!”) the debate ended with Hall Cross winning with a total of nine points to three. Harry walked up to him, well. He tried to, but he kept getting stopped by men and women who wanted to shake his hand and complement him. It made Louis wonder how he could possibly remain as level headed as he was when people did nothing but say good things, ego boosting things, to him at all times.

He greeted Louis with a smile and a kiss before wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” He said, dropping a kiss into Louis’ hair. Louis just smiled.

“Of course I came.” He said. “I wasn’t going to miss out on a chance to hear my amazing boyfriend use his intellect. I wanted to be here. It was really interesting. And I like taking part in things that interest you. But you owe me. If I don’t see you at the musical, you’re dead to me.”

 

Harry entered the tattoo shop with money in his hand. He had never been in the shop as a paying customer before, today was different. And Harry was nervous. He knew tattoos hurt, he wasn't stupid. And he knew they took a long time. And he was full of doubts, and a voice in the back of his head kept telling him to get a smaller one done, but he wouldn't listen. He was doing this for Louis. He was getting the tattoo he was getting for Louis. And he was doing it in complete secret. He felt like such a rebel.

His mum was probably going to kill him. But he couldn't bring it in himself to care. And, if he was honest. He had been thinking about getting one for a really long time. He just didn't know what, at least until he met Louis. So that's where the inspiration for the tattoo came from.

He was going to get two swallows underneath his collarbone. One on the right would be smaller, with rounded eyebrows and the one on the left would be slightly larger with flat eyebrows. Louis on the right. Harry on the left. And they would be in flight because that's what Harry and Louis deserved. Louis was a force to be reckoned with, trapped inside a cage when he deserved to be a free spirit with nothing to hold him back. Harry was contained by what others expected of him, sometimes he even felt that way around his parents. They were proud of him. He was proud of who he was. But he just wanted to be free. He wanted to feel like no one was judging him, looking at him like he was the strangest thing on earth. Because even if girls thought him attractive, their looks of interest turned to disgust when they saw him press a gentle kiss to Louis' lips in between classes. His chances of getting more friends also started and ended with Louis. He got Zayn when Louis came along. He got Niall because of the debate team. And Liam. Liam had always been there. And Harry was tired of it. Tired of both of them being caged when they deserved so much more than that. They wanted so much more. Even if Louis played it off like he was happy. He wasn't.

"Hssa! Hssa!" Lux called from her playpen, her two year old toothy grin calling him to her. He smiled and she reached for him but he shook his head.

"Not today, Luxy girl." He said with a soft smile. "It's Tuesday. I've got to see your daddy today, love."

Tom came through a door right then, carrying a clean tattoo gun in one hand and a tray of different coloured inks in another.

"Hey Tom." Harry said with a nervous grin. "I was wondering. I uh. Well. I want a tattoo. "

Tom laughed. "Well you came to the right bloody fucking place then, mate."

"It's just. Mum can't find out. And Louis can't either. So can you keep a secret for me? At least until the twenty fourth? That's Louis' birthday and I'm sort of. Wanting to surprise him. And mum. She'll go mental, won't she?"

"If mumma Anne is going to go mental are you sure you should be doing this?" Tom said with a smirk. "She's got you wrapped around her finger. Bloody princess you are. Never put a toe out of line, do you?"

"Oh stuff it." Harry grumbled, throwing himself down into the tattoo chair and pulling his shirt off. Lux looked at him with interest. "Don't think less of me if I cry like a baby."

"Want me to get Lou to come down and his your hand?" Tom said, a laugh in his voice. Harry glared at him.

"How fucking old do you think I am?"

"I've hit a nerve."

"Just shut the fuck up and ink me."

"Sounds like something your boyfriend said last time he was in." Harry punched him in the arm. "Alright, alright! What do you want?"

"I was thinking two swallows. Under my collarbones, yeah? But like.. The one on the right has to be smaller. And have curved eyebrows like Louis. And the one on the left has to be bigger. With flat eyebrows. Like mine."

"I'll have a sketch in fifteen and you can see if you like it."

 

There was one thing that Harry was right about when it came to the tattoo, besides the fact that it hurt like a fucking bitch, and it was that his mum went absolutely fucking mental when she saw it. He didn't mean for her to see it, really.. It was a complete accident. She usually never woke up before him so he felt free to roam the house shirtless. But, of course, the day after he gets the tattoo is the day she decides to be a mum and make breakfast for the family. He didn't mind, really. It was a Sunday, and he really didn't like making full English for three people on his own, four, now that Gemma was home for the hols. But he did mind when he walked in the kitchen for a cups, shirtless as usual, and she was standing there reading the paper and sipping a mug of steaming hot coffee.

At first, he forgot he even had the tattoo, and he just wandered past her with a 'morning, mum'. But as she turned to say good morning to him in return, her eyes widened and she did a double take. He looked at her curiously, trying to figure out what had caused her to react to him so strangely, and then he remembered.

"Erm.. Surprise?" he tried with a weak smile. She crossed the kitchen in two steps, and for a moment he thought she was going to slap him. But she had never hit him before, so he didn’t see why she would. Although, he had never come home with a permanent tattoo inked into his skin, either. So.

“Go wash that off, Harry.” she said, obviously not paying attention to the angry red that the swallows were outlined in. “You know I don’t like it when you draw on yourself.”

“Mum.. I can’t just wash this off. It.. well. It’s sort of... permanent.”

“No ink is permanent, darling.”

“You don’t understand. It’s. It’s a tattoo, mum. This is pretty permanent. One hundred percent permanent, actually. Unless I get it lasered off, but I don’t think it works so well with black. So. Yeah. Permanent.”

She was silent for a moment, as if to let the words sink in. And then it began.

“Harry Edward Styles!” she screeched, causing Harry to wince. “How could you have done something so stupid to yourself?! That’s a permanent tattoo! Do you understand how irresponsible that is?! People are going to think you’re a member of a gang! Or worse! And did you stop to think how bad that’s going to look when you’re all sagging skin and bones? What about getting a job?! If anyone sees that you’re going to be rejected immediately! I can’t believe you would do something like that! Destroying your body! What were you thinking?!”

“Christ, mum. If you think this is bad, you should see my boyfriend!” Harry said, taking a step back from her. “This was my decision, not yours, not Gem’s, not Robin’s. Mine. I got them because I needed a way to express myself that I couldn’t in words. You’ll never understand why, and I don’t expect you too. But I don’t really care. I wanted them. And I’m not doing anything to change it. So just get used to them, yeah?”

And with that, he stepped out of the kitchen, leaving his mum gaping at him as he went. He had never spoken to her like that before, was only ever polite and respectful. But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault that she didn’t like something he made the decision to do on his own. Something he wanted to do because he had found something extremely important to him, and wanted to mark it. Mark it somewhere he could see every day, for the rest of his life. And if his mother chose not to ask why, or understand why. Well. Fuck her, then.

Wednesday was December twenty third, and it was their last day of school before the hols. So Harry and Louis went with their usual routine, and went to Louis’ house after picking up the twins from school. It was bitterly cold outside, so the two boys had to listen to four girls screech in Louis’ little living room while they were up in his room, but Harry didn’t mind it as much. He was too focused on the way Louis was moving under his fingers as he traced across the boy’s collarbone and down his sides to the button on his trousers and then back up. Too focused on how he would murmur things into his ear that meant absolutely nothing, and meant absolutely everything. He was just too focused on the time they were spending together, that Louis could have had three million sisters screeching on the floor below, and he wouldn’t have a care in the world for any of them.

“I’ve got presents for you.” Harry muttered, not wanting to break the trance they were both in, but desperately wanting to see Louis’ reaction when he opened the vinyl. “One you can have.. the other. Not so much. What one do you want first?”

“Can I give you what I bought you first?” Louis asked quietly. Harry simply nodded, and Louis reached across him and into the night stand, pulling out a long, thin box. It was poorly wrapped, but a bright green bow sat on the top. Harry took it wordlessly, and stared down at it for a moment, before looking back up at Louis. He had a sheepish smile on his face, and was wringing his hands together.

“The girls. Daze and Pheeb. They wanted to help me wrap it.” He offered as an explanation as to why the package was wrapped the way it was. “I didn’t let them help pick it out. So I thought it would be okay if they wrapped it themselves.”

“You’ve already got me beat. Lux helped me pick out your gift. The one you can have, anyway.” Harry said with a smile pulling the ends of the wrapping paper and crumpling it into a ball. There was a velvet box underneath, and he pulled the lid open, feeling Louis’ eyes on him the entire time.

Inside, nestled into cream colored silk, was a sterling silver chain that had a blue topaz pendant on the end. Harry’s breath caught.

“Lou..” He said quietly, lifting it out of the box and into his hand. It was surprisingly light weight, and it was absolutely beautiful.

“I uhm. Well. Like. I just thought you would like it. And... I sort of. Wanted you to have something of me you could carry around all the time?” He said, hesitantly. “God that sounds like a line from a chick film. If you hate it, it won’t hurt my feelings. I’ll just bring it back.”

“Louis, I love it.” Harry said quietly, slipping it over his head. “I truly do. I wish you wouldn’t have spent the money on me, though. Really. I’m not that special.”

“Yes you are.” Louis said so quietly, Harry barely heard him. But he smiled anyway, and pressed a kiss to Louis’ lips.

“Thank you, love.”

“Can I have my presents now? You said presents, right? That means there’s more than one.”

“Technically, it’s only one. Since you can only actually have one of them.” Harry said, smirking at his boyfriend who was worse than a five year old in a sweets shop. “Which one do you want first?”

“The one I can have!” He said, sitting up against his headboard. harry smiled, and produced the vinyl, wrapped by his mother, out of his school bag.

“Be careful with it, yeah? It’s sort of fragile.”

Louis nodded and turned the parcel over, tearing at the paper gently. His eyes widened as more and more of the cover was revealed to him. When he flipped it open, he choked on his breath and Harry thought that maybe, he was going to see his boyfriend cry.

“Haz I --” Louis said, his voice choked. He ran his hand over the autographed front side gently, almost as if he was scared he was going to do permanent damage. “I don’t think you understand just how much this means to me. Like. I can’t begin to describe how much it means... Where did you find it?”

“Spin It.” Harry said softly, pressing a kiss to Louis’ hair. “You know. The record shop in the mall. That day I came to the shop to get Lux. She helped me pick it out. Sort of squealed when she saw it. So.. Yeah. I figure I can take you to get it framed after the hols.. Happy early birthday, love.”

Louis stood up and set the album in a clear spot on his desk, making sure that it laid flat before he ran back over to his bed and tackled Harry in a kiss. He climbed atop Harry, and straddled his hips, kissing his lips and then down his neck before running his hands up Harry’s chest softly. That shot right to Harry’s dick and the intent was clear, but it also hurt. His tattoos were still fresh and still sore and when he let out a hiss of pain, Louis pulled back with a curious expression.

“Part two.” Harry mumbled as Louis’ hands ran over the buttons of his shirt. He started undoing them, bottom to top. And when he reached the last one, he pushed Harry’s shirt open to reveal the tattoos and his eyes went wide.

“Are those?”

“Permanent? Yeah.” Harry said quietly. “See if you can tell the difference in them. Go on.”

“The one on your right is smaller.” Louis said after a minute of staring at them. “And he’s got curvy eyebrows like I do. And they’re both on the spots where I like to mark you. Are those important details? Wait. You didn’t.”

“I did.” Harry said with a gentle nod. “The one on my right is you. It’s smaller and has your eyebrows. And the one on my left is me. It’s bigger. I got them because I thought they represented us well, don’t you think?”

“You permanently inked me into your skin?” Louis said, quietly. “But what if.. What if this isn’t forever?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, darling.” Harry said with a soft smile, resting his hands on Louis’ hips. “Whether we’re together, or apart. You’re going to be in my life forever. You’re my best mate first, boyfriend second. So I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me, and then if things end, I’ll have it as a reminder of when I had this perfect thing in my life. And it’ll make me happy. Louis, I would ink a fucking portrait of you into my skin just because.”

“You sound like a Jane Austen novel.” Louis said with a smile, his eyes shining.

“One condition.” Harry said as Louis leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to each swallow before sitting back up, covering Harry’s hands with his.

“And what would that be?”

“I get to be Mr. Darcy.”

 

December faded into January and January to February and Harry’s Eighteenth birthday. And Louis treated him to a big fancy dinner at some restaurant that Harry had never been to before but promised Louis he would learn how to make vodka cream sauce for pasta. And from Harry’s birthday it turned into March and then April and Louis brought home a report of his grades and showed Harry that he had B* in all of his classes. And Harry had kissed him and fucked him into the mattress, whispering how proud he was into Louis’ ear as he pinned Louis’ wrists over his head and kissed down his neck while Louis writhed underneath him. And April also turned into “two weeks of hell” because of the musical. And Louis was dead tired when he came home and his mum was starting to get irritated with him because the rehearsals ran so late. And Harry was there to pick him up every single night when they ran to eleven thirty, sometimes even longer, no matter how much Louis protested. And they’ve started rehearsals with the stage crew and that was just a complete fiasco because Louis felt like half of them were incompetent. All they had to do was move the sets to where the glow tape said in between scenes. Seriously. As long as you could read you should be able to do it.

But he wasn’t going to complain because he asked for it. And Harry sat with him after school until rehearsals started, then went home for a few hours and came back with a steaming thermos of throat coat tea. And Louis thinks he might just have the perfect boyfriend on the entire face of the planet. And he knows that he’s in love.

He told Harry that he loved him one one of their car rides from rehearsal to Louis’ house and Harry nearly crashed the car into a tree because he looked at Louis so quickly the steering wheel jerked. Thankfully no one was on the road, or else they probably would have died. But it ended with them breaking in the backseat in Louis’ driveway, the headlights off and Radiohead covering up their moans.

It was a Saturday morning when his world seemed to collapse into itself, his bubble shattered. It was their last Saturday rehearsal before opening night, and Louis had already had a shit night because he had screamed himself hoarse fighting with his mother while the girls watched. He wasn’t fond of losing his temper because his mother had been through so much, but sometimes he did. His sisters had given him a particularly hard time, and had left the house in a disaster. Ted’s water and food bowls had been spilled over in a game of tag while Louis tried to fix dinner, and he stepped on a piece of dog food in his bare feet which hurt like a son of a bitch. Then he had heard glass shattering from the living room and saw his mother’s wedding cake topper lying on the ground, shattered. He had to clean that up before anyone got hurt. Then he heard thudding coming from upstairs and went up to find his sisters jumping on HIS bed while Lottie went through his CD’s and Fliss danced around the room with the Fun. vinyl that Harry still had to take him to get framed. It was the final straw, them going into his room and touching his things. And he tried to be patient with them, but he lost it and screamed at them. And that just made everything worse because, if he was honest, he could be a bit scary when he lost his temper. Judging by the way Daisy was shaking by the time he was done, he had terrified them all.

They all stayed awake until their mother got home that night. Louis had assured it. He put in a shit movie and made them popcorn and when his mother came through the door and asked how his day had been, he let her have it. He yelled at her, and told her she was a horrible mother and told her it wasn’t fair for her to leave him to have all the responsibility, and he told her that he knew she was only one person and she was trying but he couldn’t raise four girls on his own. He told her that she couldn’t just be sad all the time anymore because yeah, Mark leaving was shit. It was shit for all of them but life went on and there was someone better out there waiting for her. And she had countered by telling him that if he wasn’t so busy all the time that it wouldn’t have been a problem and that it could go back to the way it was. And he had just yelled more, telling her that he couldn’t wait to get out and she couldn’t expect him to sit around and let his dreams die because she wanted him to be a father to her daughters when he just couldn’t do that.

And he had ran up to his room crying and texting Harry to see if he was awake but of course he wasn’t and Louis ended up falling asleep, tangled in his blankets and breathing in Harry’s scent from one of the many chord knit jumpers Harry had forgotten in his room.

So, needless to say, he was ready for rehearsal so he could get his mind off of the night he had. But that changed when everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. His Wendy wasn’t there, and they were supposed to be practicing the flying scene on the harnesses. They had this amazing rigging system that allowed them to go out over the audience a little ways, and they needed more than four rehearsals to practice it. Especially since this would only be Louis’ third time in the harnesses, and his first time over the audience. And then one of the set pieces broke, his costume tights ripped, his shirt didn’t fit correctly, his shoes were a size too big, he kept losing his hat, his voice was completely gone, and the lost boys were too busy talking about how big of a slut Wendy (a very nice, pretty girl named Eleanor) was to even care about the production. Plus the director seemed to have it out for Louis, saying that everything he was doing was wrong when Louis knew he was doing everything exactly how they rehearsed it.

To say he was happy to see Harry come into the auditorium to take him home was probably the understatement of the year, and it took everything he had in him not to sprint towards him and kiss the daylights out of him.

When he had fully changed out of his costume, he slung his bag over his shoulder and pulled his toms on his feet before heading into the lobby area outside the auditorium. Harry was waiting for him with a turkey sandwich, a steaming mug of throat coat (which sounded awful but actually tasted quite delicious, and was beneficial for him. His director had given him a whole box, and it really helped his voice.) and a soft kiss. And they walked out of the school hand in hand, not waiting for any of the others. Honestly, Louis had hoped to make more friends in the cast, but they were all primadonnas, and he didn’t play that game.

  
“Are you alright, babe?” Harry asked as they got in the car after Louis’ rehearsal. Louis just nodded and took a bite of his sandwich while Harry watched. “Are you sure? You’re being quiet. And your eyes are really red. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not really, no.” Louis admitted, taking a sip of his tea. He didn’t say anything else, and while Harry was generally good at picking his battles, today wasn’t a day he went about confronting Louis with caution.

“What happened?” He asked. Louis just sighed and shook his head. “Louis. Talk to me, please.”

“Mum and I got in an argument last night.” He said quietly, finishing off his sandwich before starting in on the crisps that Harry had brought for him.

“Why?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Louis replied. “Can we just... go to the park or something, please? Or yours? I just really don’t want to go home.”

Harry sighed, and maybe it came out a bit angrily. But it didn’t matter because he finally got Louis to look at him.

“What?” he asked. “Don’t be mad at me. I just don’t want to go home. I don’t want to talk about what happened or why we got in a fight... I just don’t. Can we please do something together? Just you and me?”

“No.” Harry said, shaking his head. “I’m angry at you.”

“Join the fucking club.” Louis muttered.

“I’m sick of you not telling me anything.” Harry said. “Usually I’m okay with it because I don’t want to push. But I can’t help you if you don’t say anything, and it feels like you don’t trust me! I’m your boyfriend, Louis. I need you to talk to me.”

“I do trust you, and I know you’re my boyfriend. Your fucking tattoos remind me every time I see them.”

Harry ignored that comment. “So talk to me, Louis! Talk to me and tell me what’s going on because you’re not fine! The last time I saw you this bad was when Niall had the whole school calling you names!”

“Harry! I don’t want to talk about it! And if you feel like I can’t trust you then maybe we shouldn’t even be together!” Louis said, sharply. But Harry didn’t let up. He wasn’t going to. Not this time.

“I’m not fucking breaking up with you. That’s pointless! We love each other and neither of us want that. It would just cause us both pain and misery and we would get back together and you know it! I want you to tell me what’s eating at you! And I’m not leaving until you fucking talk to me about whatever is going on!”

“You know what, Harry? Fine.” Louis said, his voice sounded tired. And in one sentence, Harry knew. He knew that Louis was tired of everything. Tired of fighting, tired of hiding. Tired of the secrets. He was just tired. “I won’t keep secrets any longer. But once I tell you everything, I’m leaving. I don’t know if I’ll be back. I’ll walk home if I have to.”

Harry just stared at him, thinking he was bluffing, before Louis continued. And it seemed like all of his insecurities came pouring out in what followed.

“You’re better off without me, Harry. You always have been. You’re this bright, shining light with so much ahead of you. And I’m this stupid boy with tattoos who likes to party and drink when he’s not taking care of his four little sisters because his mum is in a fucking permanent existential crisis or something that’s been happening for like, ever. I’m the one who carries the weight in my family. I pay the bills because, even though mum is the one making money, she’s shit at math and doesn’t ever remember her bank balance. I’m the one who makes sure the girls get to and from school safely three times a week because she works doubles at the hospital. I’m the one who brushes the twin’s hair, I’m the one who cooks dinner, and I’m the one who mum looks to when she just needs a rock to hold on to. I’ve put so much focus on her that my shit has been pushed to the side, and that feels like it’s permanent. I can’t even apply to uni because we don’t have the money for me to go, and I can’t leave the girls with a mum who is emotionally unstable.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Louis cut him off.

“I get bullied at school, I get horrible grades even though I try, because even when I’m at school my focus is on the girls and whether or not I’m going to get called into their school because something happened. Then I go home and my mum is just. She’s gone. She’s this shell of what my mum used to be. She leans on me too much, puts too much weight on my shoulders, and then some. I try so hard not to be a fuck up because I don’t want to worry her. She tells me I’m her best friend but I don’t know how that’s true because a best friend doesn’t put that much shit on the other. But I try. I try so hard to be good for her, to keep her mind at ease. Ever since she and my stepdad got divorced, it’s just been awful. And he left because of me. Because I came out to them and she refused to make me leave because she loves me that much. She says that I’ve been the most consistent thing in her life and it’s hard because sometimes I yell at her, but I just want her to see. She needs to be our mum again. I won’t always be here to take care of her. That’s why she and I got in the fight last night.”

Louis was looking down at his hands and his shoulders were shaking gently. He looked up at Harry with his eyes full of tears, and Harry felt his heart snap in half. He reached out to him, was going to tell him to stop, but Louis shook his head and took a shaky breath before continuing.

“And before I met you, I was so fucking lost and so far gone that I didn’t even know my own name half the time. I did drugs and partied literally every weekend. It was drinking and sex and drugs and it worked. It helped me let loose before I had to go back to being the perfect fucking son. Thank god for you and Zayn. and Fun. Their song Carry On got me through more shit. That’s why I got it tattooed to me. That’s why I nearly cried when I saw what you got me for my birthday. For a while I was sinking into this never ending pit that was my life, and one day I had all the girls in the car with me, and I just thought about rolling it over. Ending it for all of us. But then the fucking song came on the radio and it was the first time I’d heard it and it just really hit me so hard that I had to pull over and cry. Lottie was in the front seat, and staring at me like I had six heads. But it’s just all so, so much. And the reputation people peg on me makes it even worse. I already have enough shit to deal with at home, but to get it at school too? You were like, the only thing that made it bearable and now you’re fighting with me... I just. I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry I’m a fuck up. I’m sorry I’m no good for you. I’m... I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry.”

And before Harry even had a chance to say anything, Louis was out of the car and walking away with his shoulders low and head hung. And Harry just sat there for the longest time, thinking about everything Louis had told him. Thinking about how unfair it was that he had so much weight on his shoulders when he was just a kid himself. How he had been suicidal, if even for a moment, because of everything he was going through at home and at school. How a song had pulled him out of it. How he was right about his mother, and how wondering how she could call Louis her best friend when she forced him to grow up so quickly. Wondering if Louis had gone into the role willingly at first, but then realized what it required and just wanted to go back to when he was a kid again.

Louis didn’t text him, didn’t call him. Didn’t say hello in the hallways like he usually did. And for the first time in five months, he didn’t have someone texting him on his morning commute. And Monday turned into Tuesday which turned into Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. And Harry literally went through the motions every single day, but taking special care to look for Louis, who would spot him and then look away. Who had gotten another tattoo on his left arm, but Harry never got close enough to see. He tried meeting him at rehearsal with his usual cup of throat coat and a ride home, but he had just gotten into a car with the girl playing Wendy, he assumed. And that broke his heart even farther because they hadn’t even broken up and Louis was acting like they were never together. And, to make it worse.. he had stopped carrying the beanie.

But Harry pretended that it didn’t hurt his feelings when it did. And Friday he found himself in a panic, texting Liam to come over immediately after school. He was torn, had no idea what to do, and since Liam had been there for him the whole week through, that was who he needed to talk to. Liam would know what to do. He always did. He had always been the level headed one of the pair. And he saw Harry and Louis as harryandlouis. Two parts of one whole thing. One whole being. And since this was the first time Harry had ever been in distress because of a boy, he knew that Liam would be there. So he threw himself on his bed, running his hands through his hair and trying not to panic even more than he already was.

When Liam got to Harry’s room (he also knew the door code so he could come and go as he pleased) he wasn’t alone. Zayn was also stood at the door, their fingers laced together. Harry nearly gave himself whiplash he sat up so quickly. Liam smiled sheepishly and dropped Zayn’s hand as Harry let out an outraged “What the fuck?!”

“It’s only been a thing for two weeks.” Liam said with a shrug as Zayn stepped into the room and shut the door with a quiet click behind him. His eyes were soft but still guarded, and he looked at Harry with curiosity etched across his features as Liam crossed the room to Harry’s bed.

“You’re the first to know.” Liam added. “We’re not rushing into it or anything. So. What’s your issue? Why are you in crisis? Is this about Louis?”

“When isn’t it about him?” Harry asked with a groan, squinting his eyes shut as flashes of blue danced behind his eyelids.

“He’s right mess too, you know.” Zayn said. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before. I’ve been over at his house every day since Saturday. So, I’m going to say this as nicely as possible, given the circumstances... What the fuck did you do to my best friend?”

“Zayn!” Liam hissed.

“Li, it’s okay.” Harry said. “He deserves to know. But really. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. I just.. He had a shit day and a shit night and I wouldn’t stop pushing him to tell me why. And I told him that it made me feel like he didn’t trust me and I think that just made it worse. Because when he told me what was going on he got out of my car and we haven’t spoken since. And it’s not because I haven’t tried. Because I have. He won’t reply to my text messages. When he sees me in the hall he looks the other way... and tonight is opening night of the musical and I promised him I would go but I don’t know if he still wants me there or not. How did everything go from perfect to shit so quickly?”

“Pushing him wasn’t a good idea, Harry.” Zayn said.”He doesn’t like giving answers until he’s ready.”

“My fatal flaw is impatience.” Harry said with a sigh. “I just. He was visibly upset by whatever the hell happened so I just kept pushing because his fatal flaw is keeping secrets even though he usually tells me everything anyway. But I didn’t want to wait for him to be ready to tell me. I just want to help him. And it feels like he thinks I think he’s a charity case which obviously isn’t true. I want him to believe me so badly.”

“Well. To get him to believe,” Zayn said. “You need to show up at the musical, yeah? And mate, don’t be so hard on yourself. He doesn’t like telling me anything either. We’ve been friends since we were kids and he still doesn’t like opening up. You’re lucky he even tells you anything at all. He’s trusted you since day one, and he didn’t have a clue why. And when he told me you were going over to his every week, that really surprised em. He never lets anyone over there but me, and even that’s only on occasion. But for you to go there every week? That’s something special.”

Harry took in Zayn’s words one at a time, staring up at the ceiling. So it wasn’t just him Louis kept things from, and the fact that he was invited to Louis’ home at all was something he shouldn’t take for granted. Everything the boy had to give him, Harry had taken and taken for granted. When Louis was really just trying to hand him his whole heart, but didn’t know how to do it.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear?” Harry said, standing up and starting to pace. “Do I get him flowers? Fuck. What time is it? I want to get there early but not too early. You know? Do I sit in the back or the front? Holy shit guys. He’s just my boyfriend and I’m acting like I’m going in for neurosurgery that has a high fatality rate.”

“Harry.” Liam said. “Calm down yeah? The three of us will figure all of it out. Just make yourself presentable, please. Wear your gray trousers, that white scoop neck and a blazer with the necklace Louis got you for Christmas. Zayn and I will go and get you flowers and meet you at the school.”

Harry nodded shakily and Liam ruffles his hair before he and Zayn left Harry alone to his own devices.

 

The auditorium was packed from the moment Louis peeked out from behind the curtain. He wasn’t fully dressed yet (if you must know, he was running around in nothing but a pair of green tights and his shoes) even though he should have been. But he wanted to see if Harry had shown. he didn’t have a reason to come. Louis hadn’t spoken to him in a week. But there was still a tiny shred of hope in his chest that his boyfriend (or ex? He wasn’t sure) would show up to watch him. He had promised after all. Harry had promised, and he always kept his promises. Even if he went into crisis mode beforehand.

“Oh for fucks sake, Louis!” The stage manager, Danielle, called to him. “Put on your costume! You should have it on and be in makeup to cover up your tattoos!”

“I’m not covering my tattoos.” Louis said, his voice determined as he watched his mother and sisters take up five seats in the front row. “But I should get into my costume, yeah.”

Danielle just shook her head, her caramel colored curls bouncing, and Louis followed her to the dressing room to finish his costume off with his tunic before returning back to the stage to peek through the curtains.

Harry wasn’t there. But he promised. He would be there. Had to be. He promised. Promised. He didn’t just break promises. He was Harry.

“Places!”

 

Harry, Liam and Zayn didn’t get to school until five minutes before the curtain went up, and the only seats that were left were in the very last row by the sound board. harry sat on the aisle, flowers in his lap, hoping that maybe louis would see him. But he was probably going to be so engrossed in his character that he wouldn’t notice, and Harry was probably the the last person he wanted to see, at any rate. He was certainly going to find out. Especially since the three of them were like, the only three friends that Louis had at the show. Niall wasn’t able to go at all because he was visiting family in Ireland. And if Louis was as good as Harry knew he was going to be, he would have mass amounts of people congratulating him. Which also meant that Harry was going to be the last one to see him, and that wasn’t really a bad thing, Especially since he wanted the chance to talk to him.

So he sat through the show, laughing at the right moments, clapping after songs and cheering the loudest for Louis after his solos. Especially the solo in the beginning where he had to fly out over the audience on the harness and do all these silly acrobatic movements that he had been so nervous about but executed with perfection.

When the show was over, Louis earned a standing ovation and Harry had proud tears burning in his eyes. He made sure he was one of the last to leave the auditorium. When he was finally into the lobby, Louis was completely surrounded by people asking for pictures and complimenting him on the performance he gave. He just smiled politely as the crowd shuffled by. Harry watched for a few minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore.

He approached Louis as he was talking to a little boy wearing a Peter Pan shirt, and when he was close enough he tapped him on the shoulder and stood there, flowers in his hands.

He was talking to the little boy about Neverland, and telling him that his tattoos were for every time he had defeated Captain Hook, and that the compass on his forearm said home instead of north because it always pointed to his tree where he and the other Lost Boys lived. The boy’s eyes widened at that, and he ran his fingers over the tattoo as Harry smiled. This was his boyfriend. His beautiful, teddy bear of a boyfriend that no one ever saw because they were too scared to approach him.

When he turned and saw Harry standing there, his smile wavered for just a second before he launched himself at Harry and literally jumped into his arms and pressed kisses all over his face while Harry held him up by his thighs.

“Why are you kissing him?” the little boy asked. It was so innocent that Harry couldn’t help but smile. The boy couldn’t have been any older than six.

“Because Harry is my real life Wendy.” Louis said softly. “And it’s okay because I love him. And your Wendy doesn’t always have to be a girl.”

“If he’s your Wendy then why wasn’t he in the play?”

Louis slid down from Harry’s arms and crouched down to the boy’s level. He motioned for the boy to come closer and leaned into his ear.

“Tink was jealous.” Louis stage whispered. “She said she wouldn’t be my friend if I had the real Wendy in my play so I had to find a new Wendy for a little while.”

The little boy’s eyes widened and then his mother came to drag him away. Louis waved by, and then he turned back to Harry.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“I promised I would be here, didn’t I?”

“Give me fifteen and we can talk, yeah?”

Harry nodded. “I’ll be in my car.”

Louis left to get changed, then. And Harry was left to face the longest fifteen minutes of his life alone with his head in his hands, listening to the quiet of his car. When he heard a tap on the glass, he unlocked the door and Louis slipped into the passenger seat silently.

“Drive.” he said quietly. “I’ll give you directions.”

And so Harry did. He drove outside city limits, and into a field before Louis told him to shut the car off and got out. Harry followed him, and once they were a safe distance away from the car, Louis collapsed down into the grass, pulling Harry down with him.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said softly. “I feel like absolute shit about everything. I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk. I just want to help you when you’re upset. I want you to trust me and let me take care of you because I really fucking love you, Boo.”

“I know.” Louis said, not even crinkling his nose at the nickname. “I just. I have a hard time telling people what’s going on in my head. Like. I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control and that’s been happening a lot in the last couple years. I just. It’s so fucking hard for me.”

“I won’t push you anymore, then. I just don’t want you hiding things from me if I can help you. And I don’t like it when you do because it feels like it’s my fault.”

“It’s never your fault though, babe. Never.”

“I’ll still think it is. I don’t like not being able to have a person’s view on something. I don’t like not being able to read them. Its strange and scary because I’m used to being susceptible to people’s emotions. I can see you, see past your walls. But when you get upset, I can’t read you. I don’t know how long it’s going to tell me what’s going on in your head. I can see you but I can’t read you. If that even makes sense.”

“You’re the only thing that ever makes sense to me and that fucking scares the shit out of me.” Louis whispered, taking his hand and playing with his fingers, rolling over on his side to face Harry.

“What do you mean?”

“Like I told you before... so many things in my life are out of my control. And I don’t know why. I couldn’t even begin to fathom an answer if you asked me why. And like. I don’t understand why my mum isn’t my mum anymore. I thought she was strong enough to get through just about everything. She always has been. And the girls were always well behaved and now they’re not. And Zayn is so fucking complicated that I don’t even try with him anymore and none of them make sense to me. And then there’s you. This exclamation point that came into my question-like life. And you make sense because you see me. You fit like a puzzle piece in my life. You’re beautiful and smart and funny and everything that I never thought I would ever be able to have because I thought that my life was at a full stop. It started and ended with taking care of the girls and I thought that’s all I had ahead of me. Then you. You came along and for the first time in my life I felt this little glimmer of hope in my chest. Felt like I could finally do something with my life. Because as I started to understand you, I started to understand myself. And I am so fucking glad that you dumped your pencils that day because if you hadn’t, I would be stuck in my “going nowhere” mind set. You and your shit hipster music who see hope in everything. You’re just. You’re an exclamation point. You bring so much brightness with you wherever you go. You help me see everything clearer. And you’re this force of energy that I didn’t realize I was lacking and I think I need you. In the long term way.”

Harry brushed tears out of his eyes and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Louis’ lips. “You.” A kiss. “Are.” Another kiss. “Beautiful.” Another. “Spectacular.” Another. “Incredible.” Another. “Amazing.” Another. “And I am so fucking glad that I have you. And I’ll be here as long as you think you need me or want me. I love you so much.”

 

From the final curtain of the musical, everything seemed to go so much quicker. April moved to May and May went by so fast that Harry couldn’t understand where the time went, and before he knew it he was standing up, clapping for Louis at his graduation with the other boys at his side. Except Zayn. He was graduating too, but Liam and Niall were there with proud smiles on their faces as their two best friends walked across the stage. Lux was standing on the chair next to Harry, holding onto his shirt for balance and she was calling “Ooeee! Ooeee!” as loud as her little voice could. And when he heard her, he smiled in her direction and waved at all four of them while he carried his diploma across the stage.

He didn’t have a party afterward, said he didn’t need one. Said he just wanted to spend a few hours with Harry, and that’s how Harry found himself sitting in the tattoo chair at Tom’s while he drew up an exclamation point to tattoo to Harry’s right wrist. Louis had asked him over and over if he was sure that he wanted it, and Harry had just nodded. Their tattoos were placed strategically, so that when they held hands they would align.

Louis was sitting on the bench next to him, holding his left hand and chattering away with Lux in an animated tone, even though she had no idea what he was saying, really. And she was trying to tell him a story as best as she could as Tom got the gun and ink ready.

And as the tattoo needle burns into his wrist, it feels like a forever and God, how that’s changed since the beginning of the year. How their conversations had gone from them always being separate beings, how they had gone weeks without saying a word to each other, how they had gone their whole lives until now not knowing any real happiness. But now, it feels like their lives are just beginning because Louis believes that Harry will be there for him and their conversations have changed from “I” to “we”. And they’re talking about looking at flats together when they’re both in Uni and Louis is accepted at Manchester for a degree in Theatre Education. And it just.

It’s worth it. In the end, it always is. Louis was a question and Harry was an exclamation point and together they complete a thought that was only half finished until they met. The kisses are commas and the whispered words full stops, and together they’re writing a story that won’t ever be finished. Sometimes, Harry thinks it’s strange, their story. And maybe a little repetitive. Told in tattoos and hushed whispers and stolen hours in the back corner of a library. But that part seems to be fitting, since they were right out of a book. The star-crossed lovers theme getting only slightly out of hand when he reads back on it. A bit Shakespearean, if he’s honest with himself. But then he thinks “fuck Shakespeare, this is MY story” and the matter is put to rest. But they’re both books themselves, their pages meeting but telling a different point of view each time they’re together. He is a natural when it comes to questioning things, when it comes to trying to figure out why. But sometimes he even questions questioning. Wonders if it’s better to let things come and go. To hold onto the things that matter in life and let everything else fade away.

 

And the next morning, when Harry wakes in Louis’ room with his arms wrapped around the smaller boy’s waist and his hot breath puffing onto his neck he just knows.


End file.
